3 The Chain of Lies (5 page)

Emily poured dishwasher detergent in the cup in the door, snapped the lid shut, and started the machine. She decided there was no point in beating around the bush, so she faced Isabel and dove right in. “Did you know Evan when he worked in Washington, DC?”
 

Isabel dried her hands on the kitchen towel, seemingly unruffled by the question. But then again, that was Isabel, level-headed and unflappable. “That question seemed to come out of nowhere, Em. Why do you ask?”

She wondered why Isabel didn’t just reply yes or no. It was a simple question. Was she trying to evade the question or find out why Emily wanted to know before answering?

Emily leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms, staring directly at her. She could answer her, but she didn’t want to show her hand too early. “Just answer the question, Is.”

Isabel’s eyebrows furrowed a bit and her dark eyes locked on Emily’s. She crossed her arms, too, in a defensive manner. “What’s with this change in attitude? One minute we’re the best of friends, the next you’re the interrogator. What gives?”

“Answer the question.”

“I don’t know what this is about, but—”

“Answer the question—
Izzy
.” Emily used the nickname to see what response she’d get from Isabel. No one in their group called her that, except Evan.

Isabel’s intense stare softened at the name. She dropped her arms and took a step back, her eyes widening a bit, as if she realized Emily had discovered something.

“Did you know my husband in DC?” Emily’s voice rose with irritation.

Isabel’s eyes lowered momentarily. “Yes.”

“So you were in on the whole chain of lies?” Emily’s eyes moistened and her voice cracked as she snapped her accusation at Isabel.

“You don’t understand. I—”

Isabel stepped toward Emily, reaching out to touch her arm.

Emily shook it off. “I understand you have lied to me for the last five-plus years!” She turned away, a couple of tears escaping, and she stepped to the table. She pulled a chair out and dropped down onto it.

“Please, let me explain.” Isabel dragged a chair next to Emily’s and sat beside her.

Emily did not respond. She stuck her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.

“I did know Evan in DC—I was CIA, too. Although, when I knew him back then his name was David. He was a field operative, but I worked in the office at Langley, monitoring his operations.” Isabel had never told Emily this, not in all the conversations they’d had in the last few months about Evan’s CIA involvement.

Isabel rested a hand gently on Emily’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off again.

“We worked together for a few years and we had become friends.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Emily muttered through her hands.

“No, Emily, we were just friends. I remember the day he told me he had met someone special, unlike any woman he had ever known, he said. Then he told me he may even leave the agency for her, if he could get her to agree to marry him.”

Emily sat up straight and wiped her tears away with her hands. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her head back and ran her fingers through her loose curls. “He was talking about me?” She looked at Isabel with a sideways glance.

“He was.”

“How do I know I can believe you?”

“I may not have always told you the truth, but I’ve always watched out for you, I’ve always been your true friend.”

Emily took another calming breath and relaxed her shoulders. She turned toward Isabel, ready to hear the rest of the story.

“A few weeks later, he came into the office and had a meeting with the head of our department. After the meeting, Evan told me he was leaving the agency, going back into private life. He had asked you to marry him and you said yes. He wanted to start fresh, he said, so he was moving the two of you across the country to begin a new life in a small town.”

“Paradise Valley.”

“Yes. Because of the dangerous nature of Evan’s assignments, my supervisor wanted him to have a lifeline, a safety net, in case anyone came after him. My boss had contacts in the FBI and he got me a job with them and a transfer to the Boise office. That way I could be here for David—I mean Evan—and have contacts in both the CIA and the FBI.”

“I’m sure Evan appreciated having you here.” There was no way she could know for sure, but if Isabel was telling the truth, Emily assumed Evan would have been grateful for her presence.

“How did you know I knew him in DC?”

“I didn’t know for sure.”

“Something must have made you suspect?”

“I found an address book that belonged to Evan. One of the entries in it was
Handler
comma
Izzy
. I remembered Evan used to call you Izzy, but no one else did.”

“I see. Where is this address book?”

“It’s safe.”

“Em, if that book were to get into the wrong hands, it could cost agents their lives.”

“I realize that, but forget about the book for now. What about Jethro?”

“What do you mean?”

“You brought him to my house under the auspices of trying to find out who Evan really was—when you knew the whole time exactly who he was.”

“I wanted you to find out about the real Evan, I just didn’t want you to find out about me. Evan’s gone, but I’m still here and I value our friendship. I was afraid I’d lose it if you knew my secrets. A true friend like you doesn’t come along very often, Em, especially for someone in my line of work.”

Emily nodded that she understood.

“Now, where is the address book?”

“I’m not ready to give it up yet, but I will. Give me a few days.” Emily wasn’t finished studying it, there may be more for her to learn from it.

“You never said where you found it.”

“Funny thing. I discovered what that brass key from the safe deposit box was for.”

Emily explained getting the letter from the storage facility and how she had dropped by there that morning. She had suspected the key might fit the padlock on the storage unit after reading the letter and she was right.

“What was in the unit?” Isabel asked.

Emily considered for a moment if she should say or not. Remembering how her husband had scribbled
Handler, Izzy
in the address book, she wondered if that was enough proof that Evan trusted her. After mulling it over, Emily decided to trust her too. She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

She wished Evan hadn’t said
trust no one
in the note he had left her. He should have written
trust no one, except Isabel.
Perhaps he wrote the note before Isabel came to Paradise Valley, which would mean he put the note in the safe deposit box as soon as they’d moved to town.

It was possible, she thought, that Isabel honestly didn’t know anything about Evan’s safe deposit box, or its contents, until she told her.

“The storage unit just had some boxes of old files. That’s where I found the book.”

“What kind of files?”

Emily could lie and say they were from Evan’s private investigation cases, but hadn’t there been enough lies already? She yearned to trust her closest friend again, and she hated the suspicion that stood between them. With trepidation, she hoped she was doing the right thing.

“They were copies of CIA files. They looked like they were documents from Evan’s old assignments.”

“Are you kidding me?” Isabel’s eyes widened and her voice rose. “He’s not supposed to keep those documents.”

“It’s kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?”

“I guess, but I’d like to get a look at them.”

“What was that?” Emily’s head snapped toward the direction of her front door. She had heard the sound of the wooden floors creak in her 1920’s bungalow, followed by the faint sound of a door clicking shut.

Isabel reached into her purse for her gun and Emily followed her closely down the hall and to the front of the house. Emily had tucked her weapon in the nightstand next to her bed before the girls came over and was glad Isabel’s was close by.

The front door was unlocked. Emily had recalled locking it after the girls arrived, but Camille could have left it unlocked when she went home. Camille had said the door was ajar when she arrived, but Isabel insisted she hadn’t left it open.

Could someone have been hiding in her house while she and her friends had dinner? Staying to listen to their conversations? Isabel had done a quick search through the house and gave her an all clear, but maybe the person was clever enough to avoid being found.

“You don’t think…?” Emily wondered if someone heard her talking with Isabel? Emily shivered at the creepy feeling that spread over her body.

“Think what?” Isabel put the safety on her firearm.

“That someone was here and overheard our discussion about Evan.”

CHAPTER 4

Saturday morning, Emily woke up thinking about the address book. She had lain in bed the previous evening, scouring it, looking for anything else that might make sense to her. Nothing did. It seemed to be a jumble of cryptic names and phone numbers, sometimes followed by other numbers that made no sense at all. She assumed it must have been some kind of code that Evan would have understood, but likely no one else.

For safekeeping, she had tucked it under her pillow, sleeping with her phone and gun on the night table and her purse nearby. Someone had been searching for something in her house, likely the gun from the safe deposit box, and they weren’t going to stop until they found it. If someone had been in her house Thursday night while she talked with Isabel about the book and the boxes in the storage unit, it was possible they’d be after that information, as well.

Emily had half expected an intruder on Friday, keeping her guard up throughout the day, but it had been a quiet day. She’d spoken with Colin on the phone a couple of times, received a few texts with photos attached from Maggie and Molly, and got a call from Isabel asking when she could get a peak at the contents of the storage unit.

After hitting the shooting range in the afternoon, a kickboxing class in the early evening, and receiving a reminder call from Camille about the brunch for her brother Peter, she’d stuck a frozen meal in the microwave and watched a romantic comedy on the television before heading to bed. Nestled under the covers, she stayed up late studying the black book.

The bright morning sunlight streaming in her bedroom window told Emily she’d better drag herself out of bed and get ready for Camille’s brunch or she’d be late and have to make her apologies. She hated making apologies.

A quick shower, a dollop of hair mousse, a few blasts of hot air on her loosely tousled curls, and a dab of make-up was all she would need and she’d almost be ready to head out the door. She chose a deep turquoise top, which her friends all said played up her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, and her black jeans which she knew hugged her tush and legs in just the right places.

Was she trying to impress the guest of honor? No. Looking good simply boosted her self-confidence and lifted her spirits, although making a good impression in front of Peter would make Camille happy.

She thought of Colin and smiled, wishing he was going to the brunch with her. Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror, she stopped and did a once over, thinking how pleased Colin would be with what he saw.

Autumn was just around the corner, making the morning air crisp and cool. Emily pulled on her short black-leather boots, with just enough spiked heel to make her legs look longer. She stuck her gun, her phone, and the little black book in her large leather purse, slung it over her shoulder, and she was out the door.

~*~

“Knock, knock,” Emily called out as she walked through Camille and Jonathan’s front door. She could hear music and conversation coming from the open kitchen and family room at the rear of the house.

“We’re back here!” she heard Camille holler.

Isabel and Alex had already arrived. Isabel hugged her as she entered the open great room area. Alex and Jonathan were sitting on the couches, deep in conversation with Peter. Camille fluttered about the kitchen, putting the last minute touches on the delicious spread she had prepared.

After Isabel greeted her, Emily walked over to Camille at the stove, gave her a sideways hug, and asked if there was anything she could do to help.

“Oh, you haven’t met my brother yet. Here, let me introduce you, then you can help me cut up the fruit and take the muffins out when the buzzer goes off.” She grabbed Emily by the hand and led her over to where the men were seated.

“Peter MacKenzie,” Camille said, which caused her brother to rise to his feet, “this is my friend, Emily.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter MacKenzie.” Emily stuck out her hand, expecting to shake his. Rather, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips and gave it a light kiss. She wanted to draw it back, but for fear she would offend him, she let him hold it a moment until he released it.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a deep voice, perfect for television.

Peter looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes—just like his sister’s. He even had red hair, like Camille did, but his was more of a deep auburn. He was tall and lean, six three or four, she guessed, with sparkling white teeth that filled out a perfect smile. “Would you like to sit with us?” he asked, gesturing toward the couch he had been sitting on.