Part 4: Cover

October 30th 2008

To Whom It May Concern

Silhouette has become a fun project not going to lie. Okay since last we left off we found out Allen is dead. So now it's like what does that mean and where do we go from here right? lol I know. So Anderson and Delilah, whats up with them? lol I know. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I just re-read parts 1-3 so that I can refresh my memory on things. I'm still listening to Ne-yo "lie to me". I'm not going to lie its a good soundtrack to read to...I think I'll have a link to music soon. For people who want the full experience. I see people getting interactive in the comments. Thank you for your time and energy. I like to thank Cara and Toby for generating insightful commenting. Thanks to Brooke for your comments as well. If you're enjoying this guys please tell your friends, and if you read please comment. Thank you,

I'm going to post a note just about the process for writing this note because I think I put a lot of advice from the comments in it and I just want to keep the process open, because this project is really about the whole project. P.S. This part is dedicated to Anu, who even from the other side of the country continues to urge me to be the fighter I was born to be.

Now without further ado I present Silhouette:

Sometimes it's not what's said but what's not said.

"Well did they get the license plate number, at least?...You're kidding...So where is he now? ...You don't know!," he yells. Delilah watches from behind the door molding. She wonders if she's ever heard Anderson raise his voice before, "Find out and call me back do you hear me? Find out and call me back?"

He closes the phone violently and throws it on the couch. He exhales deeply, and turns to see her in the doorway.

"What's the matter?" she asks.

"Nothing, i just hate taking my shoes off and having to put them back on."

"What? Wait? Why?" she asks confused as she scurries back to the couch.

"What is it?"

"It's Allen, he's dead."

"Dead!" her words echo in her head.

"Yes,"

"Was that Don on the phone?"

"Yes. We have to go?"

"We have to go, where are we going?"

"We need to leave."

"Where to? Where are we leaving to? We came here because we had nowhere else to go. This was it, remember, we said we'd never meet here unless we had to. We're here, right? Where do we go now?"

"The department has a place for us."

"He's dead."

"Yes?"

"That little boy,"

"He was 24."

"He's dead?" she walks to the sofa with the paper towels in her hand. She feels her pants moisten, but doesn't care. She hears herself saying the words but doesn't feel her lips moving as she repeats herself over and over.

Anderson slides closer to her and puts his arms on her shoulders and pulls her closer.

"We have to go our cover has been blown, it's not safe here anymore."

"But you told me I was safe with you."

"You still are, but this is how these things work, Delilah."

"Stop calling me Delilah!" she pulls away from him. She tries to stand but stumbles a bit backward and falls down. She feels herself start to well up inside. She sits there a moment in the moment, the music in the background breaths melodrama. She inhales. Anderson is still.

"Are you okay?" he walks towards her and crouches down beside her. She thinks he's going to help her up but he sits next to her. She looks at him, something seems odd about the suit he's in touching hardwood. She likes the contrast.

"I'm sorry Anderson, it's just been a lot today." she rests her head in his chest. She thinks of the first time she saw Anderson. He was wearing a grey fitted suit with a white shirt and black tie. His black shoes were shined to the point of perfection and his hair was trimmed. He had seemed so removed from the rest of the department. The way he walked, the way he talked, all seemed old fashioned and tailored. She didn't know anyone like him.

"It's not always like this." he whispers into her hair. She hugs him. For a moment they embrace.

"You're only wearing one shoe," she whispers somberly.

Her aroma enters his nose. His hands massage, and then caress her lower back and side. She nuzzles her face in his chest and squeezes him tighter. She lets out a slow sigh as his lips stroke her hair. She looks up into his eyes. He sees the warm tears falling from her eyes. They feel cold against his skin. Their world becomes nibbles, bites, and warm breath. Her touch is gentle. She puts her hand on the back of his head. They pull away for a moment and look at each other.

"I didn't know what I was getting into."

"None of us did."

"It's not like the movies."

He lets out a small burst of laughter, "No it's not."

"I drank more than I thought."

"You finished a bottle by yourself."

"I haven't done that since college"

"You okay?" He dips his head low as if trying to look under a table. He's low enough to look up at her under her hair. She looks up and smiles at him.

"Yeah, I'm better."

"Good. I need you working at maximum capacity."

"Are we talk business now?" She says as he helps her to her feet. They brush themselves off and walk back toward the couch. Anderson sits to finish putting on his shoes.

"Yeah, I think we have to, but right now we have to go so we need to walk and talk and be quick." He gets up and goes into the bedroom briskly. Delilah picks up her purse. She stares at the .45 in her purse, before zipping it up and swinging it over her shoulder.

"Okay."

"I deleted all the files on the drive and saved the important things to three hard drives. One for me, one for you, and one was for Allen, but I guess that's a dead end."

"Wait, wait wait. I still don't know what's going on. What happened to Allen?"

"Someone must of found out he was an informant."

"Was it because of me?"

" I don't know."

The words echoed in her head. She thinks about Allen pleading for his life as some black eyed man holds a gun to his head. "I want names," the mental ghost screams at the little fat man. She didn't know Allen at all, but he was kind when she met him. Maybe it was because he was so young she felt responsible.

"Allen," Anderson continues " wasn't a saint. He knew the risks of what he was doing just like you did. He was a sweet kid, but, no one's innocent."

"No mercy, right."

"It turns out my suspicions were right, the congressman wasn't hurt in a skiing accident. He was actually in Bolivia meeting with Bennet."

"The mark?"

"Yes."

"Skiing trip was a cover-up." She walks into the bathroom, she looks into the mirror and reapplies her lipstick. She fixes her hair and adjusts her suit properly.

"Correct." Anderson replies as he moves around the apartment packing a backpack. Laptop, check, first aid kit, check, ...he runs through his mental checklist until he's satisfied.

"Where are we meeting Don?" She walks over to meet him at the door.

"We're not." He meets her there with their coats. They snap and button up as they talk:

"We're not? What do you mean we're not? Who are we meeting?"

"I don't know."

"You ...don't ...know?"

"Whoever it is will text me right now we need to get out of the city."

Anderson opens the front door slowly and looks out into the hallway. He peers left before looking right, and quickly closes the door.

"Someone's out there."