“Nice. Do you travel a lot?” he asked, stretching out his legs.
“Probably too much.” She laughed self-consciously and hugged her arms to her chest, slouching against the hard step that cut into their backs. “I love it, but flying gets old. And LAX is a pain in the ass. I can’t wait for them to finish the construction.”
“I hear you.” Now that he was mostly running a desk, he didn’t have to fly nearly as much as he used to. The change had been welcome. “Wait, you’re in LA?”
“Culver City.” She glanced at him, as if acknowledging the awkwardness of catching up after almost fifteen years without contact, especially given their history. “I took a job withLos Angeles Todayright after graduation.”
“Wow.” How had she landed a gig with such a prestigious newspaper right out of school?
“Where’d you go after the military?” she asked.
“Back to Virginia. But I moved to LA in March. Redondo Beach.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe we live so close and I ran into youhere. Is your family still in California?”
“Yeah. Byron lives on the Central Coast, and my parents and grandmothers are still up in the East Bay. It’s nice being within a day’s drive of everyone for a change.” To make it work financially, Jason had sold—and downsized from—his condo in Fairfax. But he lived alone. How many rooms did one guy need when he could live outdoors practically all year round?
She gave him a faint smile that loosened some of the tension in his chest. Twining her hands in her lap, she said, “I know it’s been a long time, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me. Thank you, though. I really don’t want to be alone right now.”
Something tugged in his chest. “Emma, I want to apologize—”
“Entschuldigung.” A white woman with short blond hair, wearing a blazer and slacks, approached them, breaking the little bubble of sanctuary he and Emma had built from the harsh reality around them. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” she asked Jason.
“Nein.” He knew a little German, but not enough for a coherent interview with a police officer. “English.”
“Okay.” She looked at Emma. “You too? English?”
Emma stood and hefted her bag, the horror and sadness of the shooting settling over her features again like a veil. “Either is fine.” At the woman’s gesture, Emma sent Jason a sad smile and followed the detective up the stairs. “See you later.”
He nodded, startled by how much he hoped she was right.
The sun had arced toward evening when the police finally released Emma from questioning.No, I didn’t know the victim. No, I didn’t see the shooter. Yes, Jason was simply a bystander who’d tried to save the victim. Yes, I can share my photos with you.
At least most of her answers were the truth. If you didn’t count that her entire life was one giant fabrication.
Somehow, she’d managed to shove the shock and grief of Viktor’s death deep into the remote corners of her mind, but the questions—who had killed him, why, and what to do about it?—kept her brain spinning as she stepped into the public restroom.
Jason’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence, not when Blue Bear had ample reason to want Viktor silenced. But he hadn’t been the shooter, and he’d tried to save Viktor. She couldn’t imagine him as a killer, but then she had no idea who he was now any more than he knew her.
His interrupted apology swirled into the mix too. Had time given him a new perspective on that night? If so, could she ever forgive him?
Rationally, yes, maybe. Emotionally? The jury was out.
She approached the sinks and jolted at her reflection in the mirror.
Smudged mascara gave her raccoon eyes and darkened her cheeks. And despite the baby wipes she’d used earlier, faint streaks of pink sluiced down the drain when she washed her hands.
Viktor’s blood.God.
Soaping up to her elbows, she scrubbed at her skin, unable to wash away the horror. Yes, her line of work was theoretically dangerous, but she’d never lost an informant.
Choking back a sob as an Asian woman walked in with a crying toddler, Emma washed and dried her face, and swiped on a berry-colored lipstick, adding a few dabs to her deathly pale cheeks before rubbing it in. She forced herself to take several long, slow breaths, and closed her eyes.
After a few moments, she felt more centered and—according to the mirror—she no longer appeared on the verge of passing out. That was something at least.
Back outside, she waited beyond the cordoned-off area for Jason, locking all the messy feelings from their time in college into a box in her mind. Somehow, she had to determine whether he had Viktor’s SD card. Their history made it both easier and harder. Easier because they already knew each other and had been romantic once. Harder for the same reason.
Given the wisdom of time, she could understand Jason’s reaction to finding her with Trey, maybe even the fact that he’d sought solace with another woman. Didn’t mean she was over it. Or that he was.
