A Beautiful Lie (35 page)

Garrett swallowed roughly and kept his eyes on the road.  He knew if he looked over at Parker, he’d have to pull the car over so he could pull her against him again to feel the heat of her skin and the beat of her heart, reminding him that she was safe.

“I did a few weeks of training with the CIA’s Special Activities Division, and they were going through bomb diffusion certification at the time.  I don’t know how many videos I watched about making bombs, detonating bombs, wiring bombs…it only took me a second to recognize what that ticking sound was.  I took off as fast as I could.  I probably only made it a couple of feet before the explosion.”

Parker closed her eyes, took a couple of cleansing breaths, and felt Garrett give her hand another gentle squeeze.

“You know those dreams you have where someone is chasing you and no matter how hard you try or how fast you think you’re going, it’s like you’re running through quicksand or marshmallow?  That’s how it felt when I heard the ticking sound.  Each click seemed to echo in my ears, and it seemed like it took ten minutes for me to turn my head away from the boat and start to run,” Parker explained, opening her eyes and staring straight ahead.  “Everything happened so fast after that.  I saw some debris fly past me and a lot of black smoke.  As soon as everything went dark from the smoke, a huge gust of wind blew my legs out from under me. Before I knew it, something smacked into the back of my head, and I was crashing into the marina and swallowing a gallon of water.”

Garrett squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and Parker watched the muscles in his jaw twitch.  She pulled her hand out from under his, resting on his thigh, and moved it up to the back of his neck.  She kneaded his tense muscles and ran her fingernails through his scalp.

“Do you think it was on a timer or did something you touch set it off? Garrett asked, letting Parker’s fingers calm his nerves as he attempted to clear his mind of visions of Parker being swallowed by fire and smoke.

“I don’t know.  Someone had to have known we found the boat.  It’s been in and out of that marina for years and all of a sudden, the day we find out about it, it explodes.  I doubt it was a timer.  Whoever did it wouldn't have had any idea of when or if we’d find the boat.  There was no way for them to properly gauge the right time to make it go off,” Parker said.  “Fuck!  I wish I would have seen something that could have help us.  There was something familiar about the cover sheet of that list.  It feels like something I’ve seen before.  But it was just a fax cover sheet with a picture of a nondescript flag up in the top right-hand corner.  I don’t know why when I first looked at it I felt a sense of déjà vu.   The papers didn’t even have Milo’s name on them.  They were addressed to someone named Roberto.”

Garrett took his eyes off of the road for a moment to look over at Parker.

“Roberto Mils?”

Parker nodded. “Yeah, that was it.  Why?  Do you recognize it?”

Garrett swore under his breath and then explained who Roberto Mils was and how Brady had stumbled across that name.  He told her the truth, how there was no record of Milo ever taking a domestic flight his entire life and his mother had coincidentally applied for visa applications to the Dominican right before she left Milo and his father. He even shared his concerns about everything they uncovered revolving around Parker and when she met Milo. Parker couldn’t help but stare at Garrett in amazement as he rattled off all their findings and admitted his fears.  Garrett wasn’t the type of person who shared his feelings easily.  The fact that he didn’t even hesitate to share all of this information with her showed her that professionally, he really did view her as an equal and not just someone he needed to protect.

He connected all of the dots for her. The day Lacie died was the same date Milo flew home from the Dominican, and within a few short months, they were running into Parker in a coffee shop. Milo, who had never been the kind of guy to settle down, immediately jumped at the chance to do so with Parker, almost to the point of obsession.

“I think we need to talk about Lacie again,” Garrett said softly.

Ever since Parker told him about her death, he had suspicions.  He knew the CIA could be sketchy at times and did a lot of things off the books, but they would never kill an innocent college student just for being friends with a new recruit.  At most, Parker would have been reprimanded for divulging the secret of her job.  Garrett had figured once this mess was over and they were home, he could get to the bottom of what really happened to Parker’s one and only girlfriend.  He never imagined it could have something to do with Milo.  If Milo was connected in some way to Lacie’s death, it could also be conceivable that he had something to do with Parker’s father getting involved with the Capuano family.  At this point Garrett just didn’t know what to believe anymore.  He didn’t know who to trust or who the real enemy was, and it began to mess with his mind.

“You always assumed the CIA was responsible for Lacie’s death as a way to keep you in their pocket or show you what they were capable of, right?”  Garrett asked.

Parker nodded her head, trying to focus on what Garrett was saying to her instead of dwelling on all of the secrets he’d just spilled about Milo’s timeline in her life.

“Every once in a while, when I was feeling particularly melancholy, I’d wonder if I misinterpreted things or let the fear I had for my father’s life cloud my judgment of what happened over the course of the week she was killed.  But I never had any reason to act on those suspicions or to think what I believed wasn’t true.  There was never any reason to doubt that the CIA would do whatever it took to get what they wanted.  I mean, let’s face it, they aren’t exactly known as a touchy-feely, friendly organization,” Parker admitted as she pulled one of her legs up under her in the seat.  “They dangled my father’s life over my head and basically told me to join them or his debts would eventually get him killed.  And who knows what would have happened to me if they hadn’t paid for me to finish school?  I got swept up into the romance of it all.  I could save my father’s life and have all my money worries put to rest.  All I had to do was sign on the dotted line,” Parker said softly with a shrug of her shoulders.  “Anytime I got stuck in memories of the past and got pissed off about what happened to Lacie, all I had to do was wonder what would have happened to my father, or even myself if I said no to the CIA.  It was better if I just didn’t think about it at all.  Pretend like it never happened.  There’s only so much anger a person can hold inside before they explode.”

Parker didn’t want to think about it, and she certainly didn’t want to go down memory lane and recall every detail of that dark time, but she knew it was necessary.  If it was true, and she really did let her anger blur reality, she would need to amend every thought and belief she ever had about her employer.

“I think you know better than anyone that you can’t pretend like it didn’t happen.  Something awful happened to one of your friends.  Something that I know, deep in my gut, the CIA wouldn’t have done.  And I think some small part of you knows that’s true, has always known that’s true,” Garrett told her, reaching across the console to brush Parker’s bangs out of her eyes and cup her cheek while they waited at a red light.  “But it’s easier to blame something you can see and something you know, than to think there’s some faceless, nameless entity out there that wanted to do you harm.  If you accepted it was the CIA, you had something to be angry at, someone to blame, a reason to work your ass off and make sure her death wasn’t in vain.  If you let yourself go down the path of wondering who or what could be out there, trying to hurt you, it would've driven you crazy.”

Garrett slid his fingertips softly down the side of her face as the light turned green.  Parker turned away from him and stared out her window, opening her memories for the first time without the fog of anger.

Numb.

That had been the only way to describe how Annabelle felt.  Every time she turned the corner, she saw a student or two crying over the loss of Lacie.  No one knew her, not really.  With a campus this size it was impossible to know everyone.  Just the idea that one of their own had died right there on campus, in her own dorm room, was enough to send people into a tailspin. There were brightly colored flyers handed out about grief counseling sessions: Join us!  Share your grief with those who understand! The exclamation marks lured you in and made you think it sounded like a good time.  Candlelight vigils and piles of flowers, pictures and stuffed animals were left outside of Lacie’s door. Students who had never spoken to one another before but shared a table in Art History class for three semesters were hugging and talking about all of the memories they had of a girl they never knew.

It had been two days since Annabelle had found Lacie lying in a pool of her own blood in the middle of her bed.  Two days and she had yet to cry.  Lacie had been her friend, her only friend, and she was incapable of mourning her loss.  Strangers were gathering after dark to sing and say prayers, and Annabelle couldn’t even scrape up one tear for the girl who kicked through her defenses and made her feel normal.

Annabelle walked along the sidewalk in between the Arts and Humanities building and the cafeteria.  She was busy counting the cracks in the sidewalk and avoiding the stares of people who knew she was the girl that found Lacie, so she didn’t notice the black sedan with tinted windows following her at a crawling pace on the street to her left.

Her head jerked up at the sound of a car door opening and the voice of Brad Richmond, the CIA agent who had recruited her.  She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she signed on with them.  He left messages on her cell phone every couple of days with a time and place to go for training, which was the extent of their communication.

Seeing him now, standing beside the open car door, the man who may have had a hand in ending the life of her one and only friend made her blood boil. 

“Get in the car , Miss Parker.”

She stood there staring at him with her hands clenched at her sides.  She didn’t want to make a scene. It was early afternoon and hundreds of students were out on campus, but it took everything in her not to scream at the man standing with the car door open and a casual look on his face like it was just another day.

Several minutes passed where neither one said a word.  Agent Richmond finally gave in when he realized Annabelle wasn’t budging and people were starting to notice the unmarked car with windows so dark you couldn’t see inside.

“Please, Agent Parker.”

The use of her title, even though she hadn’t earned it yet, made Annabelle bristle.  It was like he was trying to tell her she had importance, that she had control over what would happen if she stepped into that car or that she mattered and her being an agent would guarantee she would be okay.

He was subtly reminding her that she belonged to them.

Annabelle walked over to the curb and got inside the car without another glance in his direction.  Agent Richmond got in after her, and as soon as he closed the door, the car took off and he closed the divider between the driver and them.  Annabelle stared out of the side window, refusing to face the man next to her.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, Annabelle.”

She clenched her teeth together to keep the screams from spilling out.  She opened her mouth loud enough to whisper the one question she had.

“Why?”

She heard Agent Richmond shift in his seat beside her, obviously frustrated that she refused to meet his gaze.

“We thought it was best to clean up the mess.  To avoid anything tainting your career or getting back to those who only recently released your father from his debts. You have no idea what people like that would do with this kind of information.”

Annabelle closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.  She’d only had a few weeks of training, but she’d learned on the first day how to cut off a man’s air supply by hitting a certain spot on his windpipe with the heel of her hand. 

Lacie’s death had officially been ruled a suicide.  Her family, even though they had been nonexistent in her life, now believed their daughter had taken her own life.  They were wallowing in grief and shame all because of these people.

“If the Capuano family found out that someone wanted to prove a point to you by killing one of your friends, they wouldn’t hesitate to partner up with them and make your life a living hell,” Agent Richmond told her.  “That’s something you need to always remember, Annabelle.  For right now, it’s safer for all involved that everyone thinks she died from suicide.”

Annabelle’s head whipped around at his words, which sounded strangely threatening.  Was he telling her that the CIA would work with the Capuano’s?  That they’d keep the secret of Lacie’s death from the mob, but at any moment that could change and she could be targeted by them?  He was telling her that she should always remember the control the CIA had over her.

“We know this is a bit shocking for you right now, and we are using all of our resources to make sure that from now on we know absolutely everything.  The cover-up used in her death is so airtight, it’s almost unbelievable,” Agent Richmond had said with a shake of his head and a raise of his eyebrows, like he almost couldn’t believe how good his precious CIA was.

“I didn’t say one more word to him after that.  I just got out of the car and went back to my dorm.  I was so fueled by rage, I just shut down.   Until I met you and Milo,” Parker told Garrett, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth and softening the look in her eyes.

Garrett processed every single word Parker had told him about Agent Richmond with the perspective of an outsider.   He could take what Agent Richmond said several different ways.  He knew Parker had been in no position to think objectively about it. 

“You know, he never came right out and said the CIA were the ones responsible for her death,” Garrett said.

“I know.  Every single time I’ve gone over that conversation in my head I always remember that.  He was careful not to implicate anyone in her murder.  I thought he was doing it just to be a dick.  Now I’m wondering if he just assumed that we were on the same page.  That he didn’t need to spell it out because I already knew I had other enemies.  At the time, the only enemy I had was the CIA―the people who knew everything about me and coerced me into joining them by holding my father’s life over my head.  It never occurred to me that there could have been someone else out there,” Parker explained.