Chương 10
“I am.”
She looked at me.
“You need to stop giving me orders.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
She almost smiled.
Then the screen changed.
Her expression did too.
“Interesting.”
Mercer moved beside her.
“What?”
“There are multiple encrypted app installations.”
Lauren looked up.
“I only use one.”
Shaw frowned.
“One of these is disguised.”
“As what?”
“A budgeting application.”
Lauren stared.
“I never downloaded that.”
Shaw tapped through a diagnostic screen.
“Installed three months ago.”
“Can someone do that remotely?”
“Not easily.”
I looked at Lauren.
“Did Kessler ever send you a document?”
She swallowed.
“A résumé template.”
“When?”
“Maybe May.”
“Did you open it on your phone?”
“Yes.”
Shaw’s jaw tightened.
“Could have been the delivery mechanism.”
Mercer looked toward the hallway.
“Network isolation now.”
Shaw was already signaling the technician outside.
Lauren whispered, “What does that mean?”
“It means your phone may have been compromised,” I said.
Her eyes filled again.
“For three months?”
“Possibly.”
“What could he see?”
Shaw answered more carefully than I would have.
“We don’t know yet.”
Lauren looked at her mother.
Diane’s face had gone blank.
“What about messages?”
“Potentially.”
“Photos?”
“Potentially.”
“Calls?”
“Potentially.”
Lauren sat down hard.
“He could see everything.”
Shaw did not answer.
That was answer enough.
I looked at Mercer.
“If Kessler had persistent access to Lauren’s phone, Harold’s investigation was never the main event.”
“No.”
“He watched it develop.”
“Yes.”
“And encouraged it when useful.”
“Likely.”
I looked at Lauren.
“Did Daniel ever tell you to ask your father questions about me?”
She stared at the floor.
“Not directly.”
“How indirectly?”
“He would say things like Dad probably knew more than he admitted.”
“What else?”
“That military families hide things.”
“Specific things?”
She shook her head.
“He’d ask if Dad had ever checked your background.”
Mercer’s eyes hardened.
“He planted the idea.”
Lauren looked up.
“I didn’t tell Dad to contact Voss.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She flinched.
I softened my voice.
“Kessler knew your father’s personality.”
Diane gave a bitter laugh.
“That hardly requires espionage.”
Lauren covered her face with both hands.
“He kept telling me I was perceptive.”
No one spoke.
She lowered her hands.
“I thought he respected me.”
That was the first sentence she had said that morning without defending herself.
Diane looked at her daughter.
“Did he?”
Lauren’s mouth trembled.
“No.”
Diane stood, crossed the room, and sat beside her.
She did not hug her.
She simply put one hand over Lauren’s wrist.
It was enough to make Lauren cry again.
Shaw’s phone vibrated.
She read the message and immediately turned to Mercer.
“We have movement.”
“Voss?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Your Alexandria residence.”
Every muscle in my back tightened.
“What?”
“Fairfax County unit observed a man approaching the property from the alley.”
“Description?”
“White male, fifties, ball cap, backpack.”
“That means nothing.”
“He turned around when he saw the patrol vehicle.”
“Vehicle?”
“Unknown.”
“Did they follow?”
“They’re trying.”
Mercer pointed toward the door.
“Get federal support en route.”
Shaw nodded and stepped out.
I looked through the conference room window toward the courtyard.
Michael stood beneath a small tree with his back to the building.
His arms were folded.
He looked alone in a way that made the glass between us feel cruel.
Mercer followed my gaze.
“Go talk to him.”
“I thought we were locked down.”
“I can still permit you twenty yards of bad marital judgment.”
I looked at him.
“That almost sounded human.”
“Don’t spread it around.”
I walked into the courtyard.
Michael heard the door open but did not turn.
The courtyard was square, enclosed by brick walls and offices, with two picnic tables and a vending machine humming beneath an awning.
Someone had planted rosemary in a concrete planter.
The smell reminded me of our kitchen.
Michael finally spoke.
“Is our house safe?”
“For the moment.”
He nodded.
“You have a way of making temporary reassurance sound permanent.”
“I’m trying not to lie.”
“That would be new.”
I let that hit.
He picked at a loose thread near his cuff.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re allowed.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’m angry, not twelve.”
We stood in silence.
A maintenance worker pushed a cart past the interior doors and pretended not to look at us.
Michael glanced toward him.
“This is going to be everywhere.”
“Probably.”
“My father screaming at you.”
“Yes.”
“Mercer arriving.”
“Yes.”
“MPs.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“Great retirement video.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
He saw it and almost did the same.
The moment passed quickly.
“Why were you leaving?”
I knew what he meant.
“My work.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“For us?”
I hated the answer because it sounded better than the truth.
“Partly.”
“Meaning?”
“I was tired.”
He waited.
I looked at the rosemary.
“I was tired of inventing reasons not to tell you things.”
“That’s not the same as telling me.”
“No.”
“I need you to stop agreeing with me like that.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“Fight.”
“What?”
“Tell me I’m wrong about something.”
“You’re not wrong about this.”
He shook his head.
“That’s worse.”
I stepped closer.
“Michael.”
He looked at me.
“I was afraid that if I told you the truth, you’d look at me differently.”
“I am looking at you differently.”
“I know.”
“But not because of what you did.”
That surprised me.
He continued.
“I’m looking at you differently because every memory has a second version now.”
I could not answer.
“When you missed our anniversary, where were you?”
“Europe.”
“Where?”
“Vienna.”
“What were you doing?”
“I can’t tell you.”
His mouth twisted.
“There it is.”
“I can tell you I wasn’t with anyone.”
“That wasn’t what I was worried about then.”
“What were you worried about?”
“That you didn’t care.”
The words landed softly.
That made them worse.
“I cared.”
“You left me eating takeout alone at ten thirty.”
“I know.”
“You sent flowers from an airport.”
“I know.”
“They had the wrong name on the card.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
The florist had written Emily.
