“What?”
“I found something. A cache of hidden photos in Ed’s files. Look at this.”
She turned the laptop so I could see the screen. It was a really old, faded photo that had been scanned. It was of a stern-looking, unsmiling woman and two children—a young boy and girl.
The boy was a very young Ed Galloway.
“That must be his mother and sister,” I said.
“Look at his sister’s hair, Bastian.”
She was wearing a red ribbon.
“Shit.” We’d never know the story of Ed and his family, but something had happened. Something that had left a part of him twisted.
We ate our omelets. Lark kept flicking through Ed’s images on the laptop.
“I should check in with the security team. Nash and the guys might have had some luck going through the evidence from the warehouse.”
I realized she wasn’t listening.
“Lark?’
She looked up. “There’s an image.”
I frowned as she turned the laptop. It was a picture of a young man getting out of a car.
He looked nondescript. Not handsome, not unattractive. Just normal and bland, with short, brown hair. Exactly the kind of guy Ed liked to recruit. He’d always bemoaned my face when he’d started training me.
I looked at the car. It was decades-old. I did a mental calculation. This guy would be slightly older than me now.
“He’d be the right age to be Ed’s accomplice,” she said. “I’ve never seen him before.”
My frown deepened and I studied every inch of the picture. “There’s something familiar about him.” Had I seen him before? Had he been one of Ed’s earlier recruits at the CIA?
“Bastian, I think this is him.” She straightened on the stool. “I think he’s the man who killed my parents.”
“Why?”
“Because Ed named the image Red.”
CHAPTER 29
LARK
Ilifted my coffee mug and slurped.
“Ugh.” I held it away and pulled a face. It was cold.
I set it down on the island, among the mess of my laptop, papers, and files. I was running search after search. Trying to find out who the man marked Red was.
Tapping the keyboard, I looked at the photo again. The guy looked so ordinary, but I had years of reading people. I knew when to trust my gut.
He wasn’t normal.
He was a killer.
He was the man who’d murdered my parents.
