15 year old Lacey Mckleinson's mother was dead for two years. Except she wasn't really dead. Two years after the day Lacey saw her mother's coffin fall into the ground, she finds some photographs of her mother with people she's never met and several of her mother's reports which suggest her mother led a secret, double life. Lacey confronts her father and finds that her mother is a CIA agent on a high security, confidential operation. Only the mission has gone wrong and now Russian terrorists supported by their home government are hunting her mother down. But even Lacey's mother faking her own death does not save Lacey or her husband. The day her father is kidnapped by her mother's enemies is the day Lacey learns of true sacrifice to protect others. But will such a sacrifice, to avoid a national security breach, lead to her father's death?

They were in front of a heavy, locked, steel door with two agents guarding the door. The guards nodded at Agent Moreau and stepped aside for her to flash her ID into a seemingly invisible camera. The door was unlocked and one of the guards opened it. Inside, there was a short, narrow hallway leading to another door, this time unguarded. This door seemed to also be locked since Agent Moreau placed her thumb on a miniscule scanner. There was a beeping sound and the door automatically opened. Inside, a woman with frazzled hair, a tear stained face, and red welts around her neck was chained by her wrists to the post of the  bed she was laying on. The woman looked up at her visitors and stared in shock at Lacey.

"Lacey?" she whispered.

Lacey frowned. Who was this woman? She thought she was being taken to her mother. And how did this crazy looking woman know her name?

Lacey turned to Agent Moreau. "Who is this?"

Agent Moreau looked at Lacey and replied, "She's your mother."

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A Few Months Ago...

Lacey climbed up the rusty stairs leading up to the attic room. She was careful to be quiet, even though she knew her father was at work. Ever since her mother died, her father had been acting mysteriously around her. The pine tree scent, a familiar one in Philadelphia forests, was gone. The scent was replaced by a musty, damp aura. Lacey pushed open the heavy attic door. The room was dim; the only light was creaking through a small window. Lacey turned on her flashlight and looked around. It was time to reveal her father's secrets.

Lacey carefully walked over to a large, brown leather chest. She wiped some of the dust off the chest with her sleeve. The chest had a huge lock on it. What is this? 1878? The chest looked ancient and the padlock was old fashioned. Lacey wondered why this chest would be locked. What could be in here? She heaved herself up onto her feet and grunted. She anxiously looked around. She kept feeling like her father was going to be home any minute, although, that thought was ridiculous since he didn't get off from until 5 pm and it was only noon.

Lacey spent the remainder of her day looking for the key in the attic. She tried opening the lock with a pen and a screw driver, like it was shown in the movies, but it was to no avail. Frustrated, and hungry, Lacey gave up and trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen to get some lunch.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lacey waited nervously for her father to come home. She wanted to approach him about the locked chest, but she knew she would get into trouble because she specifically disobeyed his orders. But she wanted to know! She was 15 years old, after all. She deserved to know. 

Lacey was watching television when she heard the garage door opening. She quickly sprang up and began to place dishes on the table. She heard the stomp stomp of her father's footsteps and looked up to see her father's solemn smile. 

"Hello, Lacey." 

Lacey hated when her father looked at her like that. Ever since her mother died, he was always looking at her with pity. Like he felt sorry for her. 

"Hey, dad. I have dinner ready."

Lacey's father smiled again, but the smile did not reach his deep chestnut eyes. He kissed Lacey's blonde head, set his brown bag down and took off his hat. He gave Lacey his dark beige trenchcoat and Lacey went to the closet in the narrow hallway to hang it up.

Once they began to dig their forks into the spaghetti, Lacey thought about the locked chest in the attic. I'll bring it up after dinner, she thought to herself.

After they finished their food, Lacey's father headed up to his bedroom to take a nap. He had been taking a lot of naps since his wife's death. 

Lacey decided to read a book she borrowed from the library and she cracked open a window to let the cool, summer breeze into the living room. She wondered when her dad would wake up from his nap so she could ask him about the chest in the attic and what was inside. I'm not going to sleep until I get some answers, she thought firmly to herself.

After reading for about a half an hour, Lacey went up to her mother's bedroom, careful to be quiet, as to not wake het father who was sleeping in the adjacent guest room. Ever since Lacey' mother's death, Lacey's father would not step foot into the bedroom he once shared with his wife. 

When Lacey entered her mother's bedroom, the immediate scent of Chanel 5 perfume and  lavender engulfed her. Tears silently went down Lacey's cheeks as she was reminded of her mother. She looked at the picture framed of her mother, father, and herself. Her mother was always laughing, and even when she wasn't, her eyes were laughing as well. Lacey liked to think her mother was laughing in heaven, but she honestly did not know. Because something did not sit right with lacey about her mother's death. And she had a sense that the answers were in the locked chest in the attic. 

All of a sudden, Lacey heard a door opening and her father's voice, "Lacey?"

Lacey whirled around and saw her father at the foot of the threshold, not daring to step in. "yeah dad?" Lacey managed a weak smile. "Did you get any sleep?"

Lacey's father shook his head. "Not really. What are you doing in here, sweetie?"

"Nothing." Lacey's father stared at her skeptically. 

Lacey, worried that he facial expressions will betray her, whizzed past her father before he could say another word.

Lacey did not ask her father about the locked chest in the attic. I'll ask him tomorrow, she thought.

The next day was Sunday, which meant that Lacey's father had no work. He was reading the newspaper and eating sloppy, mushy oatmeal when Lacey entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Dad." Lacey said, careful to avoid his eyes.

Lacey received a grunt in reply. She rolled her eyes at the back of her father's head and poured herself some milk and cereal into a bowl. She plopped down at the kitchen table and stared at her father. Her father felt Lacey's eyes boring into him and he looked up and said, "What??"

Lacey bit her lip and hesitated. She was afraid that if she brought up the locked chest in the attic and about Mom, not only would he be angry, but he might become upset again. Any reminder of her mother or her mother's death was a subject that was not to be discussed in the house. it was an unspoken rule.

"Dad...why is there a locked chest in the attic?" Lacey tried to make the tone of her voice sound conversational and matter-of-fact-as if she was asking about the weather. Her father dropped his newspaper and looked up sharply.

"Lacey, I specifically told you not to go up to the attic."

Lacey felt her defenses building up. "I know, Dad! But why?? Is it something about..."

Lacey trailed off and he father's eyes widened at the knowledge of knowing what his daughter was going to say. He got up quickly, his chair making a loud scraping sound, and left the kitchen.

"Ugh, great, looks like im going to have to find the key to it myself, " she thought.

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The next day, when Lacey's father is at work, Lacey goes on a hunt to find the key to the mysterious locked chest. She first searches in her father's office and then his "bedroom" (aka the guest room which ha now only become his room after Lacey's mother passed away as mentioned previously). It was to no avail. she searched in living room drawers, oak wood dressers, steel cabinets pocketbooks and closets but the key was nowhere to be found. The long search did not result in a key, only a tired, frustrated, and hungry Lacey. Lacey made herself some pizza and with a bottle of pop, plopped herself in front of the television set. After half an hour, she dozed off into a slumber and dreamt about keys.

Where on earth is that damn key, Lacey thought when she woke up.

Wait a minute, Lacey thought. If I was my dad where would i put the key so I would never have to look at it again and where my daughter would never find it?

Lacey shot up and ran to her mother's bedroom. She pulled out table side drawers and looked in the closet, but could not find a single key. Feeling hopeless, Lacey opened her mother's jewelry box. Lacey remembered how, just two months ago, she was dancing with he mother in this same room with her mother's pearl necklace around her neck. Lacey touched the pearls and in the corner of her eye, spotted a metallic flash. With her fingers, she pushed away the gold bracelet and costume jewelry to find a key that looked antique. 

Lacey's eyes widen and she feels her heat skip a beat.Lacey gingerly picks up the key, as if she was afraid to break the delicate little trinket, and determinedly marches to the attic, feeling triumphant yet apprehensive of what family secrets she would find in the locked chest. Well, there is no turning back now.  

Lacey heard the satisfying "click" when she turned the key into the padlock on the chest in the attic. She opened the chest and saw various black and white photographs and two journals. These were photos Lacey had never seen before. She saw her late mother in the photographs, but not her father. In several of the photos, she saw a bearded man smiling next to her mother. Confused and with more questions than before, Lacey picked up one of the journals. It had diary eentrieswhich dated back to when Lacey's mother was a teen. The second journal started when Lacey began to date Lacey's father and the entries continued until two years ago. Lacey looked at the date of the last diary entry and her eyes widened at the date. It was the day before her mother passed away:

I am so tired of feeling scared. Scared for Drew (Lacey's father) and for little Lacey. She is only thirteen. I must leave immediately or they will get hurt and it will be all my fault. I cannot bear that pain of them getting hurt and it being all my fault. 

-L.C

Lacey felt confused. Her mother left? Lacey's mother told her and her father that she was headed to an art conference in philly. But she never came back. Her father told her that her mother died in a car crash. And she never got to see her mother's body. Lacey felt so confused and perplexed and dizzy. She did not know what was the truth and what was a lie. 

Lacey could hear the heavy, slow footsteps of her father walking into the house. Lacey was sitting at the kitchen table, with her arms crossed, and a determined look on her face. Lacey's father came in and stopped when he saw Lacey sitting with the old black and white photos of her mother and with her mother's diaries. 

"Lacey, what the he-"

"Please, sit down Dad." Lacey cut him off. 

Lacey's father stared at her and, much to Lacey's amazement, sat down at the kitchen table. He avoided looking at the photos and diaries on the table and instead, looked at Lacey. 

"Dad, what happened to Mom?"

Lacey's dad took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. He looked tired. His wife's death had aged him. 

"Okay, Lacey, I guess it's time you know and i know you won't give up until you find the truth." He smiled at her. "You really are your mother's daughter. 

Lacey smiled and held her father's hand. She knew he needed him.

"Dad, who is the man in all these photos."

Lacey's dad picked up one of the photos and said, "That's Danny McKilson. He's an old friend of your mother and I. He used to be a CIA agent but when this picture was taken, he was retired."

Lacey scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. 'Yeah, but what's he doing with Mom?"

"Sweetie, your mother was a journalist, and like her passion for art, she had a passion for finding the truth. Long story short, she uncovered a white house scandal that involved some Russian rouges and money laundering with politicians. This was two years ago. Now the rogues were after her in an attempt to keep her from publishing the story."

Lacey's father allowed Lacey a few moments to reugster everything he told her. "Now, Lacey, I know this is a lot to take in right now, but I need to tell you one more thing and I need you to be brave for me, ok?"

Lacey instantely felt fear at her father's words and the expression on his face. What was so bad that he was acting like this?

"Your mother is alive. "

                 ****************************************************** 

"What the hell do you mean mother is alive???" Lacey shrieked loudly.

"Lacey, mind your language please." Lacey's father warned.

Lacey stared at her father incredulously. How could he think about manners when he just told her what he just told her!

"Dad, please tell me what is going on. What did you mean your mother is alive?"

"Okay, I will, but first sit down Lacey." Lacey realized she had stood up when her father told her that mother is alive.

Lacey sat down, without taking her eyes off of her father. Her father reached for her hands and held them. "Lacey, I'm going to tell you everything, but I need you to not tell anyone what I tell you and I need you to wait until I am finished speaking before you start asking questions. "

Lacey nodded and wiped her forehead with her hand.

"Your mother is alive. I don't know where she is, but the Russian rogues were after her and she was worried about our safety. She didn't tell me she was leaving. She left me a note telling me that she has to leave and to fake her own death. I acted the part, went with all the funeral arrangements and everything."

"She's been alive all this time??"

"Yes."

"Well, where is she? Is she ok?"

"Lacey, i told you I do not know where she is. She didn't tell us for our safety. I haven't spoken to her since the day she left."

"But, dad,-" Lacey began to protest.

"Lacey I know it;s hard," Lacey's father interrupted. "It was very hard for me to not try to contact her. I was mad at myself for allowing this to happen. But what's done is done. She said in the note that she won't be gone for long-she needs some time for the situation to be handled and then she can come back, but in disguise and she'll have to change her identity. he CIA and FBI are helping her and working on getting this gangsters. In fact, the man in these pictures is her former handler."

Lacey started at the pictures on the table and asked quietly, "Can I see the note?"

Lacey's father stared at his daughter and nodded his head. "Of course." He got up and came back a few minutes later with a small, yellow notebook paper in his hand.

Dear Drew, 

I have to leave. You and Lacey are my whole life and I could never bear anything happening to the both of you. My handler and I agreed I should leave, but I will come back. Please do not tell anyone, do not try to contact me, and do not tell Lacey about this. I am to fake a car accident to make the rouges think I am dead. I will come back after the situation has been handled and I will come back with a disguise and a new identity and then we will have to move and be in low standard protective custody, but we can discuss all the details once I come back. 

I'm sorry. You;ll get a phone call telling you what to do next.

I love you

-L.C

By the time Lacey was finished reading the note, she had tears in her eyes. She could smell her mother's distinct lavender scent and she looked up at her father. "I'm so happy, Dad."

Lacey's father came over to hug her and said, "I know, baby, i know"

Lacey did not know how to keep living her life, as if nothing had happenned. How do you keep living life after you've found out that you're mother, who was once suppossedly dead, is actually alive and a CIA agent? Lacey wanted to shout on the rooftop, "My mother is alive!" But she knew she couldn't. Her mother was being hunted by russian rogues and so the whole case was classified (that means 'hush hush). Still, Lacey couldn't help but smile every time she woke up in the morning, thinking about her mom, and the day she would finally be reunited with her. Sometims, she felt angry at her dad and mom, her dad, for keeping this from her, and at her mom, for leaving her. She knew it wasn't her parents' fault, they were only trying to protect her and themselves, but now that she knew her mom was alive, she missed her more than ever. 

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"So, Dad, anything new?"

Lacey tried to keep her tone casual, as if she was asking about the weather, but her Dad knew better. He gave her a stern look over the roast beef they were eating for dinner. 

"Lacey, you know that I know as much as you. If I know something, I promise I'll tell you."

Lacey sighed and put her fork down. "I know, but it's just so hard. She's my mom. She's suppossed to be here with me."

Before Lacey's father replied, the phone rang. Lacey's dad shot up and rushed to the phone. "Hello," he said breathlessley into the phone. 

Lacey frowned as her father listened into the phone. Usually her father, a businessman, was very smooth and unharried. This was unlike him.

"Okay, okay, thank you." Lacey's father said into the phone.

"What happenned, Dad?" Lacey asked as her father walked out of the kitchen, and into his office in the hallway. He came out a several moments later with a piece of paper. He put it up and smiled. All Lacey could see were scrmbled letters and numbers. 

"An update about your mother." Lacey's father grinned from ear to ear. It was the first time in two years Lacey saw her father smiling so fully. 

The note was in code, and Lacey and her father were up all night trying to decode it. Lacey's father told her to go to sleep, but Lacey refused and so her dad let her stay up. It also helped that it was a Friday, so Lacey could sleep in tomorrow.

After a few hours of decoding the message, Lacey's father whispered, "I'm fine. midwest. loves." 

Lacey frowned. "That's it? What does that mean?"

"Well, it means yout mother is fine and she is safe somewhere in the midwest of the U.S." 

"Yeah, but where exactly in the midwest is she? When is she going to see us?

Lacey''s father rubbed his head. "I don't know, honey. but she didnt give a lot of information because she knew that if she did, she might be found out, and the less we know, the more safe we are." 

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One week later, CIA agents knocked on their door. 

Lacey's father checked through the window class and asked, "Who is it?"

The man and woman slowly held up their badges and put it close to the glass, to avoid anyone seeing the badges. Lacey's father immediately opened the door. 

"Mr. McKileson? My name is Sharon Cutler, we were wondering if you were interested in purchasing some home estate." The female agent put out her hand. 

Lacey's father quickly caught on and shook Sharon's hand. "Oh, yeah. Um, sure. '

The female agent smiled and the male agent said, "Where is your daughter?"

"Oh, she's inside. Um, in her room."

"Please tell her to come down and to come with us."

"Lacey! Come down, please."

A few moments later, Lacey's quick and light footsteps were heard jumping down the stairs. Lacey halted as soon as she saw the two agents, dressed in grey and black suits, standing just behind the doorway. 

"Um, Dad? What's going on?" Lacey said fearfully. 

Lacey's dad smiled and took his daughter's hand. "Let's go."

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"Gee, Dad. You could have told me they were CIA agents." Lacey whispered to her father as they sat behind the CIA agents who were driving the car. 

"Sorry, kid. But we wanted to get into the car without tipping anyone off."

Without saying anything, Lacey knew that "anyone" was referring to her mother's enemy. 

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"Right this way, Sir."

Lacey and her father were led into a small room by a middle age woman in black slacks. She smiled at them and sat down on one of the plastic chairs. 

A man and woman with ID cards clipped on to their blouses walked in with some files. They shook Lacey's and Drew's hands and placed the folders besides them on the table. 

"Look, Mr. Mackleinson, I'm going to be blunt," the man said before Drew could even open his mouth. "The situation is not good. Agent Mackleinson, your wife, is in danger and we've transferred her into a more secure location. For your own safety, we are placing you in protective custody."

Lacey felt panic. Was her mother okay? What happenned? How bad of a "situation" is it? Before Lacey could ask the agents any of these questions, her father asked, "How is my wife? How much danger is she in? And why?"

The female agent cleared her throat. "Unfortunately, we cannot give you details as this case is confidental. But I can tell you that your wife is fine, nothing has happenned. Now, you and your daughter will move to the Sullfolk county. The area is not too crowded nor too deserted so you will be safe and your neighbors will not be in danger of affected if anything is to happen."

Lacey squirmed in her seat. She didn;t want to move. It was not like Lacey made any new close friends at her school when she and her father moved after her mother's "death" but Lacey did not like change. And for Good reason, she thought as she looked at the agents, bitterly. 

Lacey's father sighed and massaged his head. The agents could sense his stress.

"How about we go see it?" 

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 WEEKS LATER 

Lacey and her father had unpacked most of their belongings into their new home, although lacey did not feel as if she could call this new place her "home' yet.  Her father, Drew, did not leave his job-it would be a longer commute, but still doable. For Lacey, however, changing schools was the only option. 

The morning of starting her new school, Lacey complained to her father, "Dad, do I have to go?? Can't I just be homeschooled." Lacey cringed inwardly from the whine she sensed in her voice, but couldn't help herself. She did not want to go to a new school where she would have to start all over again. 

Drew sighed. "lacey, please do not argue with me right now."

"But, Dad..."

Drew slammed his coffee mug onto the countertop and whirled around. Lacey immediately closed her mouth. She's never seen her father this angry. 

"Lacey, I said do. not. argue. with me. right. now. " 

Lacey got up from the table, grabbed her bag, put on her shoes, and walked out the front door to wait for the school bus. 

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She never understood life-and when the world took away her mother, she understood life even less. She felt a strong urge to walk around the streets of the city and call her mother's name just like she had done the day of her mother's funeral: searching each pair of eyes and each crevice of a shadow...with the naive hope of seeing a wisp of her mother's hair. 

Lacey was lost in thought throughout the school day. So much had changed these past few months that it was surreal to see the world going on just as it had before she found out that her suppossedly dead mother was alive. 

At the end of the school day, Lacey jumped off the bus and egan to trudge her way from the stop sign to the far end of the street where her home was located. After a few minutes, Lacey felt goosebumps trail down her neck and quickly turned around. But no one was there. 

Im just being paranoid, she thought. 

She ran all the way home. When she reached her driveway, she saw her father's Mercedes parked. Hmmm Dad's back home early, today, she thought. 

 When Lacey entered her house. she  could not find her father. She screamed when she saw drops of blood on the kitchen floor. 

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8 hours later...

Lacey felt exhausted as she sunk into the stiff, yet still comfrotable, mattress. She felt too numb and too scared to be crying and wordlessly let her eyes roam around the small, bare room with stark white walls, floor, and bed sheets. She jumped at the sound of a sharp knock on the white, metal, heavy door. She walked to the door, looked through the door eye glass, and opened it. A woman dressed in a grey pantsuit, with her ID attached to her hip, briskly walked in.She marched past Lacey and sat on one of the white chairs.

"Have a seat, Lacey. My name is Agent Mareou."

Lacey suppressed the urge to yell at her. She had never been given so many orders in her life than she had in the previous eight hours. Once Lacey was seated on the bed, Agent Mareou began to speak.

"Lacey, we do not know where your father is, but we are doing our utmost best in locating him. However, I am going to be blunt with you. Our utmost concern is securing the location and safety of Agent Mckleinson, er-your mother."

Lacey frowned. "Okay...what does that mean?"

The agent avoided Lacey's eyes when she spoke. "It means, that the terrorist organization hopes to persuade your mother in giving herself up, or the CIA in releasing confidental information, by kidnapping your father. Unfortunately, this is a high profile case that deals with national security issues. We are not authorized to give the terrorists information in hopes of having your father released." 

Lacey felt the sudden sharp pang in her chest. She could barely choke out her next words, "So...what if we don't give them any information?"

The Agent did not answer. But her silence was enough. Lacey knew that she would never see her father again.

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