“You don’t understand. I—”
Isabel stepped toward Emily, reaching out to touch her arm.
Emily shook it off. “I understand you have lied to me for the last five-plus years!” She turned away, a couple of tears escaping, and she stepped to the table. She pulled a chair out and dropped down onto it.
“Please, let me explain.” Isabel dragged a chair next to Emily’s and sat beside her.
Emily did not respond. She stuck her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
“I did know Evan in DC—I was CIA, too. Although, when I knew him back then his name was David. He was a field operative, but I worked in the office at Langley, monitoring his operations.” Isabel had never told Emily this, not in all the conversations they’d had in the last few months about Evan’s CIA involvement.
Isabel rested a hand gently on Emily’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off again.
“We worked together for a few years and we had become friends.”
“Did you sleep with him?” Emily muttered through her hands.
“No, Emily, we were just friends. I remember the day he told me he had met someone special, unlike any woman he had ever known, he said. Then he told me he may even leave the agency for her, if he could get her to agree to marry him.”
Emily sat up straight and wiped her tears away with her hands. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her head back and ran her fingers through her loose curls. “He was talking about me?” She looked at Isabel with a sideways glance.
“He was.”
“How do I know I can believe you?”
“I may not have always told you the truth, but I’ve always watched out for you, I’ve always been your true friend.”
Emily took another calming breath and relaxed her shoulders. She turned toward Isabel, ready to hear the rest of the story.
“A few weeks later, he came into the office and had a meeting with the head of our department. After the meeting, Evan told me he was leaving the agency, going back into private life. He had asked you to marry him and you said yes. He wanted to start fresh, he said, so he was moving the two of you across the country to begin a new life in a small town.”
“Paradise Valley.”
“Yes. Because of the dangerous nature of Evan’s assignments, my supervisor wanted him to have a lifeline, a safety net, in case anyone came after him. My boss had contacts in the FBI and he got me a job with them and a transfer to the Boise office. That way I could be here for David—I mean Evan—and have contacts in both the CIA and the FBI.”
“I’m sure Evan appreciated having you here.” There was no way she could know for sure, but if Isabel was telling the truth, Emily assumed Evan would have been grateful for her presence.
“How did you know I knew him in DC?”
“I didn’t know for sure.”
“Something must have made you suspect?”
“I found an address book that belonged to Evan. One of the entries in it was Handler comma Izzy. I remembered Evan used to call you Izzy, but no one else did.”
“I see. Where is this address book?”
“It’s safe.”
“Em, if that book were to get into the wrong hands, it could cost agents their lives.”
“I realize that, but forget about the book for now. What about Jethro?”
“What do you mean?”
“You brought him to my house under the auspices of trying to find out who Evan really was—when you knew the whole time exactly who he was.”
“I wanted you to find out about the real Evan, I just didn’t want you to find out about me. Evan’s gone, but I’m still here and I value our friendship. I was afraid I’d lose it if you knew my secrets. A true friend like you doesn’t come along very often, Em, especially for someone in my line of work.”
Emily nodded that she understood.
“Now, where is the address book?”
“I’m not ready to give it up yet, but I will. Give me a few days.” Emily wasn’t finished studying it, there may be more for her to learn from it.
“You never said where you found it.”
“Funny thing. I discovered what that brass key from the safe deposit box was for.”
Emily explained getting the letter from the storage facility and how she had dropped by there that morning. She had suspected the key might fit the padlock on the storage unit after reading the letter and she was right.
“What was in the unit?” Isabel asked.
Emily considered for a moment if she should say or not. Remembering how her husband had scribbled Handler, Izzy in the address book, she wondered if that was enough proof that Evan trusted her. After mulling it over, Emily decided to trust her too. She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
She wished Evan hadn’t said trust no one in the note he had left her. He should have written trust no one, except Isabel. Perhaps he wrote the note before Isabel came to Paradise Valley, which would mean he put the note in the safe deposit box as soon as they’d moved to town.
It was possible, she thought, that Isabel honestly didn’t know anything about Evan’s safe deposit box, or its contents, until she told her.
“The storage unit just had some boxes of old files. That’s where I found the book.”
“What kind of files?”
Emily could lie and say they were from Evan’s private investigation cases, but hadn’t there been enough lies already? She yearned to trust her closest friend again, and she hated the suspicion that stood between them. With trepidation, she hoped she was doing the right thing.
“They were copies of CIA files. They looked like they were documents from Evan’s old assignments.”
“Are you kidding me?” Isabel’s eyes widened and her voice rose. “He’s not supposed to keep those documents.”
“It’s kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?”
“I guess, but I’d like to get a look at them.”
“What was that?” Emily’s head snapped toward the direction of her front door. She had heard the sound of the wooden floors creak in her 1920’s bungalow, followed by the faint sound of a door clicking shut.
Isabel reached into her purse for her gun and Emily followed her closely down the hall and to the front of the house. Emily had tucked her weapon in the nightstand next to her bed before the girls came over and was glad Isabel’s was close by.
The front door was unlocked. Emily had recalled locking it after the girls arrived, but Camille could have left it unlocked when she went home. Camille had said the door was ajar when she arrived, but Isabel insisted she hadn’t left it open.
Could someone have been hiding in her house while she and her friends had dinner? Staying to listen to their conversations? Isabel had done a quick search through the house and gave her an all clear, but maybe the person was clever enough to avoid being found.
“You don’t think…?” Emily wondered if someone heard her talking with Isabel? Emily shivered at the creepy feeling that spread over her body.
“Think what?” Isabel put the safety on her firearm.
“That someone was here and overheard our discussion about Evan.”
CHAPTER 4
Saturday morning, Emily woke up thinking about the address book. She had lain in bed the previous evening, scouring it, looking for anything else that might make sense to her. Nothing did. It seemed to be a jumble of cryptic names and phone numbers, sometimes followed by other numbers that made no sense at all. She assumed it must have been some kind of code that Evan would have understood, but likely no one else.
For safekeeping, she had tucked it under her pillow, sleeping with her phone and gun on the night table and her purse nearby. Someone had been searching for something in her house, likely the gun from the safe deposit box, and they weren’t going to stop until they found it. If someone had been in her house Thursday night while she talked with Isabel about the book and the boxes in the storage unit, it was possible they’d be after that information, as well
.
Emily had half expected an intruder on Friday, keeping her guard up throughout the day, but it had been a quiet day. She’d spoken with Colin on the phone a couple of times, received a few texts with photos attached from Maggie and Molly, and got a call from Isabel asking when she could get a peak at the contents of the storage unit.
After hitting the shooting range in the afternoon, a kickboxing class in the early evening, and receiving a reminder call from Camille about the brunch for her brother Peter, she’d stuck a frozen meal in the microwave and watched a romantic comedy on the television before heading to bed. Nestled under the covers, she stayed up late studying the black book.
The bright morning sunlight streaming in her bedroom window told Emily she’d better drag herself out of bed and get ready for Camille’s brunch or she’d be late and have to make her apologies. She hated making apologies.
A quick shower, a dollop of hair mousse, a few blasts of hot air on her loosely tousled curls, and a dab of make-up was all she would need and she’d almost be ready to head out the door. She chose a deep turquoise top, which her friends all said played up her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, and her black jeans which she knew hugged her tush and legs in just the right places.
Was she trying to impress the guest of honor? No. Looking good simply boosted her self-confidence and lifted her spirits, although making a good impression in front of Peter would make Camille happy.
She thought of Colin and smiled, wishing he was going to the brunch with her. Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror, she stopped and did a once over, thinking how pleased Colin would be with what he saw.
Autumn was just around the corner, making the morning air crisp and cool. Emily pulled on her short black-leather boots, with just enough spiked heel to make her legs look longer. She stuck her gun, her phone, and the little black book in her large leather purse, slung it over her shoulder, and she was out the door.
~*~
“Knock, knock,” Emily called out as she walked through Camille and Jonathan’s front door. She could hear music and conversation coming from the open kitchen and family room at the rear of the house.
“We’re back here!” she heard Camille holler.
Isabel and Alex had already arrived. Isabel hugged her as she entered the open great room area. Alex and Jonathan were sitting on the couches, deep in conversation with Peter. Camille fluttered about the kitchen, putting the last minute touches on the delicious spread she had prepared.
After Isabel greeted her, Emily walked over to Camille at the stove, gave her a sideways hug, and asked if there was anything she could do to help.
“Oh, you haven’t met my brother yet. Here, let me introduce you, then you can help me cut up the fruit and take the muffins out when the buzzer goes off.” She grabbed Emily by the hand and led her over to where the men were seated.
“Peter MacKenzie,” Camille said, which caused her brother to rise to his feet, “this is my friend, Emily.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Peter MacKenzie.” Emily stuck out her hand, expecting to shake his. Rather, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips and gave it a light kiss. She wanted to draw it back, but for fear she would offend him, she let him hold it a moment until he released it.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a deep voice, perfect for television.
Peter looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes—just like his sister’s. He even had red hair, like Camille did, but his was more of a deep auburn. He was tall and lean, six three or four, she guessed, with sparkling white teeth that filled out a perfect smile. “Would you like to sit with us?” he asked, gesturing toward the couch he had been sitting on.
“Thanks, but no, I promised Camille I’d help her in the kitchen.”
“Well, let’s talk later. My sister tells me you’re a private investigator, and I find that fascinating.”
The timer on the oven beeped loudly, alerting Camille the muffins were ready to come out.
“We’d better get back and tend to the food so we can eat.” Camille hooked her arm through Emily’s and walked her back to the kitchen area.
Within minutes Camille announced the food was ready. Spread across the long breakfast bar there were platters of two kinds of quiche, a sausage frittata, cinnamon-swirl french toast, thick slices of bacon, crispy hash browns, blueberry muffins, and fruit compote with strawberry whip. Stacked at the end were the plates, napkins, and silverware.
“Grab a plate and serve yourself, guys,” Camille instructed. “Nobody’s waiting on you in this house.”
The six of them sat around the dining table and enjoyed all Camille’s hard work and talent. Peter took a seat next to Emily and they shared friendly conversation and enjoyed the food. She found him interesting and easy to talk to with stories about his work, the places he’d traveled to, and his plans for the future at his new job in Seattle.
Though he shared quite a bit about himself, he often peppered his conversation with questions about her life and her work, which gave their exchange a nice balance. He told her about some of the stories he’d covered and she told him about some of the cases she had worked. He made her laugh a few times, but he also shocked her when he described a story he had covered recently on the trafficking of sex slaves in the United States. Occasionally, the other guests joined in on their conversation, but mostly it was just between the two of them.
When the food was consumed and the conversation died down, Emily took her plate and Peter’s to the kitchen and laid them in the sink. While the others enjoyed their coffee around the table, Peter picked up the remaining plates and silverware and brought them to the kitchen and offered to help Emily stick them in the dishwasher.
“There’s no need to do that, Peter.” Emily smiled at his helpfulness.
“Like Camille said, nobody’s waiting on me in this house. We all pitch in.”
“All right, then. If you insist,” she teased.
~*~
On her drive home, Emily’s phone began to ring and she saw it was Camille.
“Hello,” she answered cheerfully.
“Hello, there, Emily. This is Peter.”
Emily was startled a bit at the man’s deep voice. “Oh, I was expecting Camille.”
“She lent me her phone—you know, roaming charges. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight.”
“Dinner? Tonight? You mean with you and Camille and Jonathan?”
“No, I mean with me. Nothing fancy, just somewhere casual.”
For a moment she thought she’d say yes, it would be fun. Certainly better than sitting home alone on a Saturday night, but then she remembered Colin. How would she feel if he took another woman out to dinner, even a casual and friendly one?
“I’d better not.”
“I don’t understand. I thought we had a connection today. Or was I the only one who felt it?”
She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, he seemed like a great guy, not to mention the fact he was her dear friend’s brother, but she had to be honest with him. “I like you, Peter. I had fun talking with you today. But…well, it’s just that I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh, I see. I didn’t realize. Camille didn’t say anything. I would have thought she would have invited him over this morning, too.”
“He’s out of town for a little while, but he should be back soon.” Or at least she hoped he would be. “I think you guys would really hit it off.”
“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Emily peeked up at her rearview mirror and noticed a black sedan four cars back. She made a sharp right turn at the next corner to see if the car stayed with her. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better say no. Sorry.”
She looked again in her mirror and the car was still there. She hung another sharp right and checked again. This time the car was gone. Coincidence? There were a lot of black cars on the road—still, until the mystery was solved, she’d have to stay vigilant.
CHAPTER 5
Saturday evening proved boring and uneventful. Emily almost wished she’d accepted Peter’s dinner invitation so she’d have something to fill the lonely evening, but no, she decided, that was a bad idea. At least she was grateful that the nightmares about Evan’s murder hadn’t come back to haunt her the last few nights.
The bright spot in the evening was a phone call from Colin. She had been sitting on her bed, already in her pajamas, perusing the address book once more.
“I’m so lonely for you, Colin.” Her heart ached for him.
“Maybe this will cheer you up.” His voice was deep and warm. “I spoke to the police chief about getting my old job back—that is, when I’m ready to come back to Paradise Valley.”
“Did he agree?” she asked, lying back against the pillows.
“He did, said ol’ Ernie is itching to get back to his old position as a patrolman.”
“Yes, Ernie mentioned that several times to me during the Wakefield case—that he wasn’t cut out for being a detective.”
“He mentioned? That doesn’t sound like Ernie.” Colin chuckled.
“Well, more like complained—I was trying to be nice. I can’t wait for you to come back, Colin, I miss you.” Emily twisted a strand of hair around her finger.
“I know. I miss you, too. It won’t be much longer, Babe, I promise. Dad’s doing a lot better.”
“That’s good to hear.” She sat up straight and crossed her legs Indian-style on the bed. “Oh, did I tell you that Camille’s brother is in town?”
“No. Just visiting or moving there?”
“Just visiting. His name’s Peter MacKenzie. He’s a TV reporter. He starts a new job in Seattle soon, and he’s here to see Camille and her family before it begins. I think he’s planning to stick around until after Molly gets back from Hawaii so he can see her.”
“What’s he like?”
“Handsome, interesting, funny.” How could she tease poor Colin so?
His voice became serious. “Hmmm, should I be jealous?”
The Chain of Lies Page 4