15. Believe but Verify
BELIEVE BUT VERIFY
CHARLIE
I ’m in a conference room at the back of the CSA bullpen, just finishing up a meeting with Emerson, Kella, and Miles.
Kella is going to start running some missions with Miles after two years of being a tech op, like me.
Even though I never want to be a field operative, I think Kella will be great at it.
Since Jace is getting married in two days and isn’t even coming in tomorrow, I won’t be running any more missions with him until after he gets back from his honeymoon in two weeks.
Until then, I’m helping out with other field operatives.
Hopefully, my next two weeks will be less stressful than the last two weeks have been.
As Miles stands, he says, “If all else fails, I’ll just charm the regional security attaché.”
Kella starts gathering up her things. “When are you going to stop being a player and settle down with someone?”
“When the regional security attaché falls hopelessly in love with me and we bond over secure comms and trust issues.”
“Ha ha,” Kella says.
“Charlie, want to stay after?” Emerson asks. “I’ve got some information for you.”
As soon as Kella and Miles leave, I ask, “About Giovanni Vitale?”
“Yes. It seems that he does, in fact, have a wife.” He taps some things on his tablet and then holds it out to me. “Is this her?”
I look closely at the image. “The picture he showed was on his phone, and since it showed her whole body, I didn’t get a close look at her face, but I think so. She looks different now. She’s got longer hair. And it’s lighter.”
“Well,” Emerson says, “I found her Instagram profile. She does a lot of gushing posts about going to the theater. I looked into her—she was born in New York and moved to a few different homes there in her childhood. She spent four years in Washington, D.C.”
I nod. “That’s where he said she grew up.”
“I guess if it was an important four years of her childhood, you could say that was true. She met Vitale while studying abroad in Florence for her Master’s program.
They got married a little over two years later.
I checked—the FBI doesn’t have anything on her.
The closest thing was her grandfather for some smuggling nearly fifty years ago. ”
“Huh,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“I can’t answer anything as to why Vitale didn’t have security or an assistant with him.
I did find that The Shadowridge isn’t his first time investing in a restoration project in another country.
He has also funded the restoration of a historical market hall in Morocco and an opera house in Romania.
“As far as him mentioning he had business in the area—that one is thin. He does have a luxury import/export business in Alexandria, Virginia, that he could’ve been checking in on.
Or he could’ve been looking into new business opportunities, or even just meeting with business associates who were also in the area.
All we know was that he was in the States for a total of three days before he flew back to Italy.
We don’t have anything more on him, and I checked—the CIA doesn’t, either. ”
“So, he’s clean?” My voice is full of hope. Yes, that would mean I was wrong, which might mean that I can’t trust my gut as much as I thought I could, but I really want to be wrong.
“Hard to say.”
It feels right. Of course, it’s hard to tell if it feels right because I want it to feel right or because it’s actually right. I pause, try to clear my mind, and listen to my gut. Not what I want my gut to tell me, but what it’s legitimately telling me.
And I realize that it’s telling me that I was right the first time. Giovanni can’t be trusted.
“If I come across anything more, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.” As Emerson is gathering up his things, I say, “I asked Owen to be my plus-one at the wedding.”
Emerson gives me a high-five. “Good job. I’m proud of you, sis. I can’t wait to officially meet him.”
I grin. “Thanks! Oh, and Owen said he thinks that the company fixing our water leak can get insulation soon, so I’ll probably have a real wall again before long.”
“Are you sad about that?” Emerson asks, genuinely curious.
“A little, actually. Because it might mean the end of waking up to sticky notes from him. The one I got this morning said, Something about today feels like the calm before the…awesome. Or maybe it’s the calm before more construction.
Jury’s out . And in parentheses, the note said (I can’t wait for the wedding.) Isn’t he just the sweetest? ”
“Like a big, fluffy cinnamon roll,” Emerson says.
I give him a sisterly smack on the arm, then thank him again for all of his research before heading out to finish preparing for the missions we’ll be running early next week.
Of course, to do that, I’ll have to get my mind off both Owen and how I’m going to dig deeper into whatever it is that Giovanni must be hiding.
When I get home from work, Reese and Miles are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, turned toward each other, with their legs in the middle. They each hold a bowl of mini marshmallows that they are taking turns trying to toss across the space between them to land in the other person’s mouth.
I drop my keys on the table by the door, hang my bag on the hook, kick off my shoes, and say to Miles, “If it weren’t for the fact that you worked out of town so much, I’d be annoyed how often you get off work before me.”
“You say that like you’re not secretly jealous of my deeply impressive work-life balance.” He tosses a marshmallow in the air toward me, so I open my mouth, and it lands right in. “Or my ability to always hit my target.”
“Whatever, balance boy,” Reese says as she tosses a marshmallow into Miles’s mouth. “The scoreboard says you’re down by two.”
My phone starts to ring, so I pull it out. “Huh. It’s Emerson.” It’s only been maybe thirty minutes since I last saw him. I answer and say in my best cheerful customer-service voice, “Charlie’s Pizza Palace—where every call gets extra cheese and zero judgment. Can I take your order?”
“I’m guessing you’re at home and you’re worried that Owen and/or Reese can hear?”
I glance at the thin and mostly see-through wall that separates my place from Owen’s.
I can see his fuzzy person-shaped blob at his kitchen counter, possibly making himself a sandwich or something.
He’ll totally be able to hear this conversation, so I’m not just talking in code for Reese’s sake.
“Both, actually. We’re always happy to offer delivery and takeout. ”
“All right. I found something. Giovanni made a hefty donation to the La Scala Mare in Naples.”
“Oh, one of our Italian specials.”
“But the weird part? The building’s already been restored. It’s been open for years. He specifically requested a solo walk-through. No staff. No publicity.”
“So… ordering off the menu.”
“Three days before he flew to Maryland to tour The Shadowridge.”
Huh. “He didn’t order any breadsticks or sauce? He just wanted to be seated alone?”
“Exactly. Like he maybe needed to confirm something.”
“Some people like to be super particular about their order. Is there an order history?”
“Still looks squeaky clean on the surface.”
“Okay, keep the oven hot and let me know when you’ve got more ingredients.”
“You got it. And if anyone asks, this call was about a disappointing pepperoni shortage.”
“Obviously. Talk soon.”
I end the call, smiling to myself that I’ve got at least a first clue to go on when it comes to investigating Giovanni, and then I glance at our shared wall.
“Let me guess,” Reese says, deadpanning. “That phone call was actually about what movie he wants to go see?”
I turn to my roommate. “Close. Except it was a stage production.” I know that Miles is curious about the phone call, too, so I give him a meaningful look when I say “stage production.” I know he’ll piece it together and know I was talking to Emerson about The Shadowridge.
Reese turns to Miles. “Do you and your siblings play that ‘try to respond to their call as if you’re a restaurant’ game only with Charlie, or do you do it with each other, too?”
Miles gives an amused smile. “If you want to find out, try it next time you call me and see if I play along. ”
Reese laughs and then launches a marshmallow at him.
I turn back to my paper-thin wall and the man I can slightly see behind it. How can I be crushing on him when I am actively investigating the guy funding his restoration? Especially when I know how much The Shadowridge means to him. If I find anything, Owen is going to feel betrayed by both of us.