The Secret She Kept (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 5)

by Elle Gray

  “I don’t think it was trying to cheer you up so much as it was to present you with a dose of reality. What you choose to do with that, whether it be cheering up or continuing to mope and flog yourself, is entirely up to you,” he tells me with a smile.

  “Have a great day, Fish.”

  “You as well, my dear.”

  I walk him to the door, then lock it behind him. Fish is an odd duck, that’s for sure. But I want to believe he means well. It just strikes me as odd that he would be here defending Petrosyan. And the video, I will reserve judgment on—until I know whether or not it’s authentic. I know there are some very convincing deepfakes out there, so when Fish gets it to me, I’ll run it through Rick and see if he can authenticate it for me. If it is, we’ll waste no time picking up Mushyan. Only then will I be able to rest easy knowing Ben’s killer is off the streets. Only then will I allow myself to fully relax.

  And only then will I know if I can truly trust Fish or not.

  Epilogue

  Chihuly Garden and Glass; Downtown Seattle

  I stand in front of one of the bright, colorful exhibits in one of Seattle’s most unique places. I sometimes enjoy coming to the Chihuly just because it is so quirky and off-beat. The Chihuly is part garden, part museum. All the exhibits are brightly colored glass made by Dale Chihuly. Some of the pieces are abstract. Others resemble giant flowers. One of my favorite pieces resembles spirals of brightly colored leaves of gold, brown, and yellow. It’s truly exquisite.

  I surreptitiously watch the crowd around me. Between Torres and the Thirteen, I’m jumping at every shadow and loud noise these days. I never know if I’m being watched—and if I am, by whom. The crowd inside the Chihuly is thick, but not oppressively so. I can move around without being jostled by anybody. It’s also a good place to pick up a tail. With so many twists and turns along the garden footpath, it’s easy to spot somebody following you.

  It’s why I selected the place to meet with Brody. I move on from the spiraling leaves and make my way over to a brightly colored garden of glass. I spot him sitting on a bench, and when he looks up, I give a subtle nod in the direction I want him to follow me. I feel silly for all of this cloak and dagger, but with so many different people who apparently want to kill me, I think exercising a little prudence is probably for the best.

  I walk to a secluded little alcove I scouted out earlier. It’s between a pair of sculptures and set back far enough that it will afford us some privacy, as well as let me spot anybody coming before he or she sees me. Once Brody is inside, I turn to him.

  “I’m sorry for the spy games,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Hey, in your shoes, I’d probably be even more paranoid. I might not even leave my house ever again.”

  I laugh softly. “I’m not at that point just yet. But I may be getting there.”

  “Okay, well, the good news is that I swept your entire place, top to bottom—twice—and there is no electronic surveillance equipment in there,” he says.

  “Do you think you’d be able to pick up the most cutting-edge equipment out there?”

  He chuckles. “I am the most cutting-edge designer out there. Believe me when I say I’m several generations ahead of the government. If I say there are no bugs in your house, you can take that to the bank.”

  I smile and nod. “That’s good enough for me, then.”

  “Now for the bad news.”

  “Couldn’t we just end on the high note?”

  He smiles. “No, I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

  “That’s debatable. I’m not sure I want anything of the sort. But I probably need to hear it, anyway,” I say.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you and Paxton are like mirror images of each other?”

  “Not since the last time you told me that.”

  He grins. “Some points bear reiterating.”

  “Clearly. So, out with the bad news, then.”

  I peer out of the alcove and look around. I don’t see anybody creeping close or paying any undue attention to us. To me, it appears that the coast is still clear. Brody hands me a thumb drive and points to it.

  “Everything I’m about to tell you is on this drive. All of the files and paperwork to back up what I’m saying are there,” he explains. “I would only suggest reading that when you’re feeling extra masochistic and want to feel extra paranoid.”

  “Copy that,” I say, looking down at the silver drive in my hand.

  “Turns out that your boyfriend isn’t Mark Walton after all,” he says. “Because Mark Walton doesn’t exist.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, he exists now. But before ten years ago, your boyfriend didn’t exist. Anywhere. He’s a ghost.”

  It feels as if the ground has just fallen out from under me and I’m freefalling into space. My heart has dropped into my stomach and I feel as if I’m going to be sick.

  “How is that possible?” I ask.

  “Whoever created Mark Walton is good. Really good. But I’m better,” he says. “And I found all of the backstopping they put up just in case you did a deep Google search on him. But if you can go the places in cyberspace that I can, you’ll find out that Mark Walton is like one of those Hollywood movie sets where the giant, sturdy castle is being held up by two-by-fours from behind.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t believe this. This can’t be real.”

  Brody frowns. “I’m really sorry, Blake. But this is real,” he says. “I’m not sure who he really is, but the man you know as Mark Walton is a fraud. He is employed—legitimately—at the hospital. But his MD license? Fake, although certainly, he has a medical background; otherwise, he couldn’t pass as a doctor. College records, driver’s license, social security, birth certificate? All fake. As far as I can tell, Doctor Mark either went to a lot of trouble over a long, long time to cover up his past—or he sprang out of thin air.”

  I don’t know how, but I’m managing to say on my feet despite the fact that my legs are shaking so badly, they’re rattling my teeth. I look at Brody and see the compassion in his face. I feel like an idiot. All this time I’ve let myself be fooled. I let him into my life when all he was doing was watching me. Reporting back on me. I’ve never felt so utterly stupid and betrayed like this in my life.

  “Are you alright, Blake?”

  I shake my head. “Not really. I feel like such a moron.”

  “Don’t. He could have fooled anybody.”

  “He didn’t fool you.”

  Brody shrugs. “Only because I knew what I was looking for. And I only knew where to look because you figured it out and pointed me in the right direction. So, clearly, he didn’t fool you, either.”

  “A little late. But I guess.”

  I think about how much I’ve told him. Shared with him. The ramifications of having lethim so deep into my life are only just now starting to settle down over me. I want to cry. He knows everything I know—which means the Thirteen know everything I know as well. I have no idea what I’m going to do, and I feel a panic attack starting to come on.

  “If you want, Paxton and I and can pick this guy up one night and take him for a ride, if you know what I mean,” he offers.

  “That’s really sweet and I appreciate that,” I tell him. “But let’s hold off on that idea. For now, anyway. I may end up taking you up on that.”

  “Anytime, Blake. You know Pax has your back. So do I.”

  I pull Brody into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Brody. You’re a good friend.”

  “Right back at you,” he says. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  I shake my head. “No, not yet. But thank you. I need to take a minute to figure out what my next steps are going to be.”

  “Fair enough. And if you need a hand, just give us a call.”

  “I will. And thank you again.”

  Brody gives me a small smile and a nod, then walks away. I watch him melt into the crowd as I stand in the alcove, letting my mind play and replay every
thing he just told me. I know he’d never lie to me, and when it comes to all things tech, I trust him even more than I trust my own tech analyst. If there is something to be found—or not found, as the case may be—it’s going to be Brody who uncovers it. And what he’s uncovered has shaken me to my core.

  How could I be so stupid as to not see what was right in front of me all this time? How could I not see through Mark? How could I not know he was a spy inserted into my life to keep tabs on me—just as Gina Aoki warned me? How could I have not seen this coming? Not only has this revelation shocked me totally, it’s making me question everything about myself right now. I’m not used to dealing in self-doubt, but at this moment, I’m awash in it. I’m drowning in it. And I don’t know that I’ll be able to pull my head above water again.

  I need to figure out what my next steps are going to be, but my mind is so full of questions, I don’t even know where to start. I’m having trouble even thinking straight. And I know this is the way it will be until I answer the one question that’s burning brighter in my mind than any of the others—who in the hell is Mark Walton? Who is he really?

  It’s the question I most want the answer to. But I have almost no idea how to find that answer. And I fear that the one way I can think of to get the answer is going to cost me my life.

  My God, when did my life get so completely complicated? Not to mention ridiculously dangerous?

  Note From Elle Gray

  I hope you enjoyed The Chosen Girls, book 5 in the Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller series.

  My intention is to give you a thrilling adventure and an entertaining escape with each and every book.

  However, I need your help to continue writing and bring you more books!

  * * *

  Being a new indie writer is tough.

  I don’t have a large budget, huge following, or any of the cutting edge marketing techniques.

  So, all I kindly ask is that if you enjoyed this book, please take a moment of your time and leave me a review and maybe recommend the book to a fellow book lover or two.

  This way I can continue to write all day and night and bring you more books in the Blake Wilder series.

  By the way, if you find any typos or want to reach out to me, feel free to email me at egray@ellegraybooks.com

  * * *

  Your writer friend,

  Elle Gray

  Also by Elle Gray

  Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thrillers

  Book One - The 7 She Saw

  Book Two - A Perfect Wife

  Book Three - Her Perfect Crime

  Book Four - The Chosen Girls

  Book Five - The Secret She Kept

  Arrington Mysteries

  Free Prequel - Deadly Pursuit

  Book One - I See You

  Book Two - Her Last Call

  Book Three - Woman In The Water