Kitabı oku: «A Model Spy», sayfa 2
Chapter 2
Still somewhat shaken that she’d agreed to the assignment, Vanessa sat in the Gotham Rose basement consultation room, trying to concentrate on the mission file Renee had given her. She needed to have her head examined. She was committed to keeping her word, but deep inside she wanted to skip out of the room as fast as her pink suede shoes would take her. The invisible bond of her conscience was the only thing that kept her glued to the chair.
Across the table from her, Cody Mackenzie’s mere presence crowded the room. A cloud of negative vibes hovered over his head and threatened to drench everyone in the room. When he glanced her way, there was an unpleasant expression on his face. His nostrils flared and the corner of his wide mouth curled. He looked like he’d been sucking lemons. What was his problem?
Vanessa thought back on everything that had happened since Mackenzie appeared. Yes, she’d initially refused the assignment, but that was her right and she’d had good reasons. Yes, she’d weathered some emotional moments when she’d heard about poor Gena and her friend, but she’d done nothing to earn Mackenzie’s enmity.
On a large media screen at the front of the room, Renee projected pictures and provided details. Vanessa stared at the pictures of the models: both had been beaten, raped and stabbed to death. There’d been no mercy or dignity in what they had endured before death set them free.
Her eyelids stung. Balling her fists, she parted her lips and forced air into her lungs.
The next group of pictures centered on the upscale building on Ocean Drive in Miami where the models had had apartments. With the Novak sofa and chair and the Milan coffee tables in the living room, Gena’s apartment was a study in soothing blues and hardwood floors. Vanessa was certain that it had been designed and decorated by a professional.
One or more of a very different kind of professional had destroyed Gena’s apartment, too. The sofa and all the chairs in the place had been cut with a knife and viciously ripped to shreds. Someone had even taken the seats and backs off the chairs and ripped the carpet with razors. The kitchen was a mess of broken glass and china. Silverware littered the floor. Nothing in the apartment remained intact.
“They certainly found what they were looking for,” Mackenzie said roughly, breaking the stark silence.
Renee flicked her remote ahead to a picture of a clear glass container that had been glued together. The label on the front read Caribbean Mama Spice Mix.
“I imagine that this jar never held the kind of spice that goes on food,” Renee remarked dryly. “The lab analyzed the pieces of glass that formed this container and found they were coated with cocaine. It seems likely that the girls transported the cocaine into the country in spice jars like this. It’s probably not the only type of product container used. Judging by the way their apartments and belongings were searched and destroyed, the Miami Field Division, MFD, thinks the girls may have messed up the delivery somehow and gotten themselves killed. The girls had just returned from a trip to the Bahamas. They cruised regularly on yachts owned by people high up in the fashion and music industries. MFD’s not sure which boat they were on, because all their friends and associates have suddenly developed acute cases of amnesia.”
Vanessa’s throat tightened. If she’d stayed in modeling and continued everything she’d been doing, she could have been one of the victims. “So who are we after?”
As Renee clicked a new picture onto the screen, Cody spoke. “We’re after a ring headed or financed by someone in the upper echelons of society or highly placed in Miami business or in the music industry. We have more than one suspect.” He pointed to the picture on the screen. “This is Hector Guerra. He came up from the streets of Miami with a past that includes the Street Killers and 114th Avenue Boys. His club and hip-hop clothing lines have made him popular. The models attended several of his parties. His clothing lines could provide an excellent cover for transporting drugs.”
Vanessa studied the photo of the tall, lean, Latino man. Hooded brows and beautifully shaped lips dominated his golden-skinned face. He was one of the designers her sister, Michelle, adored and the type of man that would have attracted Gena.
Taye Rollins, also known as Hot T, was the man in the next photo. Renee explained that the hip-hop artist, record producer and clothing designer had come up from the Street Killers gang of Miami, and now employed former gang members, and sponsored and produced artists coming out of Miami street gangs. He’d also been spotted at several events with an entourage that included both of the models.
Vanessa owned several of Taye’s CDs. His compositions were edgy, sexy and innovative. With skin the color of warm milk chocolate, he was attractive and had a smile that pulled at something deep inside her. Could the man be that provocative in person? She doubted it.
In the next photo, Caulfield Carouthers was blond with piercing, gray eyes. Vanessa knew the publishing heir through his snobby sister, Lindy, who’d gone to high school with her. According to the file, his lifestyle and gambling habit had negatively affected his publishing empire. He hung out with people in the fast lane and had been seen with several of the other suspects. He’d also had an affair with Bianca a couple of years ago.
Vanessa was surprised when a photo of dark-haired, heavyset, pugnacious-faced movie producer Benton Lansing appeared on the screen. According to Mackenzie, Benton hung out and partied with Taye and the other suspects. His last two movies had flopped and he was trying to get funding for another. He could be trying to finance his next picture with drug money.
Last, but not least, was Garrett Sutter, the Sutter Distillery heir. Vanessa had met him and been present at a few society functions he’d also attended. He mostly kept to himself. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people had landed him on the DEA’s suspect list.
“So exactly what is my assignment?” Vanessa asked.
Renee placed the remote on the table. Calm and confident, she faced them directly. An inner fire lit her royal-blue eyes. “You’re to go to Miami with Agent Mackenzie. There, you will move into the condo complex on Ocean Drive and get to know the models on the party circuit. Find out what you can about Gena and Bianca’s activities. Your goal is to get a lead on this drug operation, work with Cody to identify its members, and get the evidence we need. Mackenzie will help photograph you and several other models for the swimsuit edition of Inside Sports.”
For the first time, Vanessa felt excited at the chance to grace the cover of Inside Sports. The assignment stoked her competitive streak. Her gaze darted to Renee. That the Governess and her contacts had managed such a coup was quite a bonus. The modeling career she’d tanked was returning with a bang.
“Agent Mackenzie, Vanessa, I know that you two have just met, but you were each considered the best we could find for this assignment. Mackenzie, your work with the DEA in Miami has been highly commended. You must also be proud to have placed your photos in various art and photography magazines.”
Mackenzie closed his briefing file. “Thank you. But now we’ve got a job to do.”
“I’d already planned to take two independent study classes in the upcoming term at school, but I’ll need at least a day to square things with my family,” Vanessa put in quickly, making a concerted effort to avoid the agent’s gaze. Still, she felt the weight of it and suppressed the impulse to explain. She didn’t owe him an explanation.
“A day or two is fine,” Renee informed them. “Vanessa, you’ll need to at least check in with Erin Branch at the MFD. Both your Inside Sports contract and the details on where you’ll be staying can be found in your file. Any questions?”
Mackenzie asked about the chain of command on and off the team.
Matter-of-factly Renee faced him. “This is a joint operation between the Gotham Roses and the DEA. You’re considered equals. Mackenzie’s supervisor at the MFD and I expect to be kept up to date on your progress. The MFD is available to provide you with any local help and backup you might need. Mackenzie, you’re still expected to follow DEA rules and procedures. We’ve already cleared your use of our technology and wardrobe for this assignment with your supervisor. Vanessa, you know our rules of operation. You’ll turn over your evidence to the MFD. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”
Renee’s statements didn’t surprise Vanessa. She’d worked alone on the last assignment. All of the women in the club’s undercover organization were trained and capable of working alone. The wild card here was Cody Mackenzie. Would he make the assignment a breeze, or become a full-blown pain in the ass?
“If there’s nothing further, Alan’s got a few gadgets for you and Kristi’s worked up a wardrobe profile and several additions for both of you.” Standing, Renee shook their hands. “Good luck.”
Down the hall from the consultation room, Alan Burke was waiting for them in his lab. His eyes sparkled as he showed Vanessa a set of press-on nails decorated with an intricate swirling crystal design.
Thinking about the nail she’d broken while sparring with Jimmy, she suppressed a smile. Alan was good at customizing his gadgets to fit his customer’s personalities and lifestyles. When Alan showed her that parts of the detailed design on the nails were actually electronic bugs that could be peeled off and stuck on various surfaces, she nodded approvingly.
Vanessa also received a slim gold-colored cell phone that functioned as a Global Positioning System device, a speaker and recorder for the bugs from the fingernails, and a gadget for opening electronic locks and accessing computer systems. Cool.
Alan opened a slim jewelry box and drew out a fourteen-carat gold watch with a detailed antique rose design on the face. “Press the side button in firmly three times in succession, and Agent Mackenzie and your backup team will know that you need help. It’s your panic button. It sends out a homing signal, too, if you only press it twice.”
“I like it.” Vanessa fitted the delicate watch onto her wrist and snapped the clasp closed. “Thanks, Alan. For everything.”
Alan drew another box from his workbench and gave it to Mackenzie. “Your watch. It does everything Vanessa’s watch does.” The watch was a Movado. As Mackenzie put it on, Alan drew another package from the alcove on his desk. Mackenzie opened the next package to reveal a 35mm camera. He eyed Alan cautiously. “A camera?”
“A camera that enables you to see in any light. It’s got built-in night vision and a few extra buttons.” Alan showed him a row of small buttons on the back of the camera. “Hit number one and your subject gets a knockout mist. Make sure you’re within two feet. Hit number two, and it shoots a paralyzing dart.”
“And number three?” Mackenzie asked, his finger close to the button.
Alan’s expression held a dare. “Press that and count to three, throw the camera as hard as you can, and run like hell!”
“A grenade?” Mackenzie’s fingers moved far away from the row of buttons.
Alan grinned. “For all intents and purposes.”
Mackenzie stepped forward to carefully place the camera back on Alan’s workbench. “This thing is some piece of work.”
Alan lifted the camera from the table, handling it carelessly. Mackenzie and Vanessa shot him incredulous looks. “The camera is quite safe to use,” Alan informed them. “There’s a safety switch along the side here,” he said, fingered a sliding bar. “None of the extra features work until you take the safety off.”
Vanessa released a sigh of relief. “Do you have any other gadgets for Agent Mackenzie?”
Alan glanced back at Mackenzie. “Not at the moment, but I’d love the chance to whip something up just for him.”
Vanessa stared. Had Alan just made a pass at Mackenzie? Hostile elements colored Mackenzie’s expression as he met Alan’s gaze.
Damn, tough break for Alan. Vanessa had instinctively known that Mackenzie was straight. She cleared her throat. “Thanks again, Alan. We’d better see what Kristi’s got for us.”
Mackenzie thanked Alan. Then he and Vanessa made their exit. Outside the room, Mackenzie rolled his shoulders and said just under his breath, “Your Alan’s got a little sugar in his tank.”
Vanessa hated all the euphemisms used to describe men like Alan. Her gaze hardened. “If you mean he’s gay, yes, but he’s never tried to force it on anyone.”
“And how would you know?”
“We don’t just work together. Alan is a friend,” she said, steel creeping into her tone.
Acknowledging her statement with a nod of his head, Mackenzie fell quiet as they made their way to Kristi’s office.
Vanessa introduced the agent to Kristi—adding that she was Alan’s sister, in case Mackenzie planned to make any more comments about him—and they sat down.
Kristi opened a leather file and drew out a list and a set of color pictures. “For this assignment I selected items that go with the clothes you have, but I tried to pump you up a little more,” she told Vanessa. “You already have fabulous instincts when it comes to fashion. This time, you want to make more of a statement and get the right kind of attention.”
Vanessa liked clothes. It was one of the things that had made her enjoy modeling. She looked at the first designer outfit. It was a slinky, sexy white DooRi wrap dress. Vanessa flipped through the rest of the file, her smile growing. Kristi had included items from a number of her favorite designers, including bustier dresses and silk camisoles from Dolce & Gabbana, classic but sexy gowns from Versace, Vera Wang, Valentino couture, Prada, Manolo Blahnik, and Jimmy Choo. Just about ready to swoon with satisfaction, she turned to Kristi.
“Thanks, I love this wardrobe!”
“I thought you would.” Kristi beamed back at her, something just short of envy in her eyes. She loved clothes just as much as Vanessa did. Sometimes the two of them went to fashion shows together.
Drawing another folder from the leather file, Kristi handed it to Mackenzie. “Agent Mackenzie, as the photographer on this project, your wardrobe makes much less of a statement. I’ve been told that you prefer casual wear. Therefore, I’ve put together a wardrobe centered on relaxed easy wear by Sean John and Fubu. For dress, I added a couple of Ralph Lauren suits, and a tuxedo from his Mister shop. For shoes, Nike Air Force Ones, Johnston & Murphy slip-ons, and Prada dress shoes. What do you think?”
“Fine by me.”
“I like the colors you chose for Agent Mackenzie,” Vanessa added. “They highlight his skin tone.”
Mackenzie looked at Vanessa with thinly veiled surprise, or perhaps annoyance. She had a feeling he didn’t appreciate her input on his wardrobe. She met his gaze squarely, intuitively aware that working with him meant she’d have to earn his respect and fight for equal footing.
But first, she’d have to loosen him up.
Chapter 3
Tired from a late night out with her friends, Vanessa dragged herself out of bed at eleven the next morning and began to pack the clothes Kristi had sent over. The rest would be shipped to her new apartment in Miami.
After giving her word to Renee and signing the magazine contract, Vanessa was prepared to go through with the assignment, no matter what. As she showered and got ready for an early dinner at her parents’ home, she rehearsed how she would tell her father that she was going back into modeling. She was an adult, already twenty-seven, and her career choice shouldn’t be his business, but she knew he wouldn’t be happy.
Manfred Dawson tried to run his family the way he ran his successful real estate business, with mixed success. Her mother was good at appearing to toe the line while managing to get exceptions for the things she really wanted to do. Michelle, Vanessa’s fourteen-year-old sister, was Daddy’s girl. She generally got what she wanted, but she could forget getting anything that might grant her a measure of independence.
Vanessa was the rebel in the family. She’d gone head to head with her father about her modeling career and had proceeded against his wishes at the age of fifteen. He’d considered having his daughter in the modeling business tantamount to her selling her body for money. When the barely eighteen-year-old Vanessa’s affair with the head of Savoy Models was exposed, she was cut out of her family allowance for her refusal to quit the business as her father demanded. She thanked God that her father knew nothing about her cocaine addiction and recovery in the private clinic in upstate New York.
As Vanessa expertly applied foundation and blush, she gave up on finding any magic words to break it gently to her father. The best option lay in finding the right moment, dropping the bomb and going for damage control if he did explode. Coating her lips with Raspberry Ice gloss, she blotted them and spread her mouth into a smile. What was the worst he could do, anyway?
Using the remote to send the clothes in her closet whizzing by for her inspection, she answered her own question. Her father would use the big threat he always used. He’d threaten to cut her off from the family fortune. His threat and her determination to be independent had prompted her to enroll in Columbia University and work fulltime toward a business degree.
Going to college had given her that much more confidence in her ability to take care of herself and eventually it had gotten her back into her family’s good graces. After going year round and taking extra classes, she had only a year and a half more before getting a bachelor’s degree in business administration. The only problem was that she had no idea what kind of business she wanted to be in.
After halting the parade of clothes and selecting a silk, ruby-colored Versace camisole and a soft, flowered silk Cavalli wrap skirt, she stepped into the shoes closet on her left and found a matching red pair of Manolos.
Crossing the room, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She usually liked more meat on her five-foot-eleven-inch frame, but she was just about the right size for the cameras. Maybe catching a bug on that family cruise to the Mediterranean last month hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. Now all she had to do was watch what she ate.
By the time she’d dressed and styled her sandy brown, golden-streaked hair and attended to some charity matters in her home office, her father’s chauffer was waiting in the car downstairs. Stuffing her lipstick and keys into her Gucci Hobo bag, she hurried downstairs to the car.
At her parents’ home in an exclusive section of Scarsdale, Vanessa greeted Robert, the butler, and made her way in. Her parents were relaxing and getting ready for dinner in the large living area they used to entertain guests.
“You look wonderful,” her mother said, moving from her place on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows to hug and kiss Vanessa.
In a classic, pink Chanel suit, Lonette Dawson was gorgeous. The highlights in her sandy brown hair were subtler than Vanessa’s, her eyes were sienna brown instead of hazel and her figure was more rounded, but they looked like sisters.
“You look beautiful, too, Mama,” Vanessa murmured, returning the kiss on the cheek. She approached her dad, who was leaning back on the sofa in a navy, checked Perry Ellis suit. The financial and real estate sections of the paper were close to his fingers, but he was making an effort to give the family all of his attention.
“Daddy, how are you?” she said, kissing his cheek.
“I’ll be better when this deal I’m working on goes through,” he noted irritably. He paused and a charming, apologetic smile transformed his face. “Sorry, sweetheart, that has nothing to do with you. How’s school?”
“You know I took the summer off to concentrate on my charity work with the Gotham Rose Club.”
“Vanessa will have her degree in another year and a half,” her mother said, taking Vanessa’s hand and urging her to a spot on the couch. “Want something to drink?”
Vanessa wet her lips. Tonight she needed all her faculties. “Ginger ale?” At the bar, Robert was already filling a glass for her.
Her father’s hazel eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “So what will you do when you get this degree from Columbia? You want a job with the company?”
Vanessa felt the walls closing in. Working for the family business would put her right under her father’s thumb. “No—at least not right now. I was thinking that I could manage my portfolio.”
“There’s not much in it, is there? Nothing except for the stock you’ve gotten for Christmases and birthdays,” he remarked. “You don’t get control of the trust fund until you’re thirty and I’m pretty sure you haven’t saved any of your family allowance.”
“There’s the money my mother left her,” her mother put in quickly.
“That wasn’t enough to cover Vanessa’s clothing allowance for more than a few years,” her father countered.
Normally, it would be true, but Vanessa had plans for independence that went a long way towards helping her pass up on that extra pair of designer shoes or the latest bag. “Actually, I used some of the family allowance toward the Gotham Roses and for schooling and living expenses.” Using the condo she’d inherited from her grandmother as her home, she’d tied the inherited funds into investments that she used to pay the taxes. Accepting the ginger ale from Robert and thanking him, she spoke up for herself.
Newfound respect crept into her father’s eyes. “Good. I parlayed less into enough of a fortune to win the business over your Uncle Marvin.”
Having heard the particular story of how he made his wealth more times than she cared to count, Vanessa held her breath. Her mother rolled her eyes. Relief came from an unlikely source. Dressed in a pink tank and crinkled silk miniskirt, Michelle burst into the room, interrupting her father’s lecture. A couple of pages of the newspaper dangled from Michelle’s fingers and her gaze skewered Vanessa.
“Michelle, how many times have I told you, it’s not ladylike to run about the house?” Lonette Dawson’s voice carried an edge.
“Sorry, Mama. I’ll try to remember next time. I was just so excited about what I read in the Rubi Cho In the Know column in today’s New York Reporter. She says that the ink on the contract is almost dry and the most memorable sweetheart from the Sweetheart Dreams Catalog is coming back to star in the Inside Sports swimsuit edition.” With a hand on one hip, Michelle turned accusing eyes on Vanessa. “That’s you, isn’t it, Vanessa? Are you going to be in the Inside Sports swimsuit edition?”
Vanessa had signed the contract only yesterday. How had Rubi Cho gotten wind of it so quickly? For the second time that evening, her voice stuck in her throat. “I—I—” She cleared her throat. There was nothing to do but own up to it. “Yes. I was going to announce it after dinner,” she admitted, facing her family with her head up and her shoulders squared. “Keifer Jonas, the photographer who did several of my most famous shots, asked me personally,” she lied. “They’re paying a lot of money that I can put in my portfolio and it’s a really good opportunity. I’ll be back before next semester starts. Mom, Dad, I—I just couldn’t pass it up.”
Brows drawing together like thunderclouds, her father’s eyes sparked with anger. “Vanessa, I thought that phase of your life was over. The last thing this family needs is our version of Paris Hilton in the limelight. It’s time to think of starting a family or helping expand the family business. Aren’t you getting a little old for modeling?”
Vanessa winced, his words burning her like acid.
“Mannie…” Lonette’s soft voice halted her husband’s tirade. She moved over to Vanessa on the couch and took her hand. “We’re concerned about you, Vanessa. We certainly have enough money that you don’t have to work. You know that, and your father doesn’t ask that much in return. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, and I’m not planning to do anything to make headlines or embarrass the family,” Vanessa answered, her voice confident.
“I’m still remembering ninety-five percent of your body on display in a popular magazine, and the gossip headlines when you were a minor, having an affair with the head of that modeling agency. And what about the wild parties and the boyfriend-turned-stalker? I can’t see you doing anything without attracting headlines,” her father said, snapping his fingers and reaching for the paper still dangling from Michelle’s hand.
Vanessa cringed. Who but her father could dismiss her life with such negativity?
“What about me?” Michelle asked, giving her father the paper. “I want to go into modeling, too. People my age model all the time. I could go down on location with Vanessa and make some contacts—”
“Michelle, we’ve already had this discussion,” Lonette said, regarding her daughter sternly. “That’s not the sort of life we want for you.”
Steeped in déjà vu, Vanessa knew how Michelle felt. The life her parents demanded was comparable to a padded cell.
Right now though, with her current assignment and what she knew about the modeling world, she was glad her parents were keeping Michelle out of it. She couldn’t stand the thought of Michelle going through all that she had.
“You guys never let me do anything!” Michelle whined. Tears filled her eyes. “When Vanessa started—”
Manfred Dawson’s heavy voice cut through her objections. “Michelle, the answer is no. Don’t ask again.”
Just then, Robert appeared in the doorway to announce dinner, and as the family headed for the dining room, a pouting Michelle ran off to her room.
Vanessa sat through a strained, awkward dinner with her parents. Her appetite gone, she pushed grilled salmon with creamed dill sauce, stir-fried green beans and a twice-baked potato around on her plate.
Her father frowned every time he looked at her. It was a silent reproach. Nothing she said reached him. She found herself wondering, when had he ever smiled at her and been supportive? Only when she did as he dictated. He wanted a puppet, not a daughter.
Her mother chattered on about things—the next ball, the garden club meeting and her church work. When her gaze met Vanessa’s there was a sort of desperation in her eyes. Lonette really hated discord among her family. After an initial effort to resolve things, her usual solution was to try to act as if nothing had happened and hope it would go away. It never worked.
Vanessa refused the crème brûlée dessert and got ready to leave. She loved her parents, but she had a job to do. A job she couldn’t tell them about.
Before she left, Vanessa stopped by Michelle’s room to talk and try to smooth things over. At first, Michelle was too angry to say much, but when she heard that Vanessa was leaving for Miami in the morning, she turned red-rimmed eyes on her sister and said, “I thought you said that you’d never go back, that it was full of nothing but bad memories?”
Vanessa nodded. “I did, and I meant it, but I have something important to do. I’m not just going back to model, I’m going back to do something for a friend and I gave my word.”
“What are you going to do?” Michelle asked, curiosity in her eyes as she searched Vanessa’s face. “You can tell me.”
Vanessa knew better than to play this game. “No, I can’t. Just take my word for it.”
Michelle’s eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re going to leave me here with them. Let me come with you! I won’t be any trouble. I know how to take care of myself.”
Nothing was further from the truth. Smoothing her sister’s hair, Vanessa leaned in and hugged her. “I can’t. They’d disown me if I did that.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Michelle said. “Daddy keeps taking away the money and you still keep doing what you want.”
Vanessa met her sister’s gaze. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do keep doing what I have to do. I’m an adult. Daddy thinks he knows what’s best for me, but he’s lived his life and made his own decisions. Do you see? I’ve got to do what I think is best, even if it’s a mistake.”
Michelle’s next question haunted Vanessa all the way back to her condo. “Is this modeling job a mistake?”
Vanessa left New York on a morning flight to Miami. There, she picked up the red Jag convertible they’d leased for her. Afterward, she followed the leasing agent’s directions to her new condo on Ocean Drive.
As the concierge unloaded her luggage and the valet accepted her keys, Vanessa studied the building where the models had been killed. The large, three-story structure was big enough to guarantee some privacy, but nothing like the high-rises that dotted Ocean Drive. Part of the building was set in a lush, tropical garden, the rest on the beach.
A blue-uniformed man opened the lobby door and Vanessa stepped into the building wearing Seven for All Mankind custom jeans made to fit her curvy butt just right and a lilac silk tank top. Her heels clicked as she crossed a marbled lobby to stop at the service desk and get directions to her condo. Minutes later, she was back outside in the hot sun, rounding the building to stop in front of her unit.
A tall blonde in dark glasses, swim shorts and a bikini top came out of the next unit and pulled the door shut. “Moving in?” she asked, smiling.
Recognizing one of the models to be photographed for Inside Sports, Vanessa returned the smile. “Yes. I’m Vanessa. How are you?”
“Right now, I’m just getting started on the fun.” The blonde pushed the sunglasses down her nose to peer at Vanessa. “Your hazel eyes…I thought I recognized you. You’re Vanessa Dawson, aren’t you?”
