Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

shed in the hotel room had taken all my sadness.
    My fingers didn’t tremble when I opened the manila envelope. Nothing inside of me was the same as it was when I left the house. In the place of the pain and self-pity, was resentment and a dirty dose of fury.
    I shook my head and pulled out the folder, "How could you, James?" I muttered to the folder, "How could you do this to me and the kids?"
    The dark-brown folder had one word on the front of it, "Burrow" I didn’t know what it meant but I assumed it was something to do with him being a mole. A double agent. How could he? I closed my eyes and repeated the word burrow but it didn’t trigger anything.
    I twirled the locket on my neck, trying desperately to recall even one thing. The locket made me ashamed. My father had given it to me for my graduation from CI training. He had been commander in charge at the time. He had begged me not to become a CI agent, but when I had ignored him and done amazingly at training he had to be proud. He begged me not to date James when we were discovered. I never understood his hate for him.
    I couldn’t help but wonder, if my dad had seen the man he would become?
    I took a breath and wished I had some red wine to drink as I flipped it open. At first, it was pictures, surveillance photos of buildings I had never seen. No different than what I had looked at a million times in my short career as a CI agent.
    I flipped past them, trying to commit them to memory.
    Unfortunately, the shows my kids watched everyday had fried my brain somewhat. Well, kids’ shows and the many hours I may or may not have spent playing Skyrim. I believed in testing a product before I let my ten-year-old play it. Damn those game makers. They were good. That damned game was addicting, once I got used to the Xbox controls.
    My to-do list was balanced in there somewhere, along with the heartbreak that my kids’ dad was an idiot. There was no room for surveillance photos.
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, needing to be the person I once was. I opened them and started to look at the pictures again. Warehouses maybe, factories, trucks parked outside, men walking the yards without guns. The pictures were like looking in over the industrial section of any city. I couldn’t even say what country it was. Nothing stood out.
    The next pictures were of a man , I thought maybe I knew . The next one was of James and the same man. The man looked to be close to James' age. The black and white photo showed him to be handsome, dark haired, and serious looking.
    It wasn’t keeping my attention. I needed a snack. I put the papers down and went to the kitchen. I picked my underwear out of my butt, where it got lodged from sitting on the lid to the toilet and then looked around.
    "Shit," I whispered.
    Coop, or someone, was no doubt watching that. I snarled and opened the freezer. I should have grabbed the plate of food, Mom would have in the fridge for me. Instead, I grabbed the caramel pecan ice cream and a spoon. I raised it like I was toasting whoever was watching me. Fuck Coop and his out of shape comment. He was probably disgusted at the thought of a girl eating ice cream from a container.
    I carried it back to the washroom to look at the files again.
    Sitting back on the toilet, I spread the photos out on the floor, after I went over each one. The first one was of James and the man talking outside of the warehouse. I knew the man. It was driving me insane where I knew him from, so I blanked my mind, but flashes of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends filled it. I loved that show.
    I sighed and grabbed the notes.
    "Officer Hammond believes Officer Evans to be compromised and possibly committing traitorous acts against the flag."
    I reread the sentence and swallowed the lump of cold ice cream. I clenched my face and neck, as a throat burn started from not chewing the ice cream and taking in too large a bite. It happened when I watched Vampire Diaries too. Damn those Original Vampires and their sexiness, they gave me brain freeze and throat burn every time.
    The next page was dates. I saw some I recognized as dates he was out of town for work. Others were hockey tournaments and other such competitions for our kids. Some of them, I recalled James being at.
    Lastly, was an iPod. I pressed the on button on the top and instantly the screen went to a video. I pressed play.
    It was James being filmed from a short distance at night. He stood in a dark corner with someone