Chapter 15 #2
Although, as Americans took great joy in telling him, a journey of two to three hours wasn’t “long.” His military experience agreed with them—it was the reason for the journey that made it seem long.
Everything Taylor’s father had sent to her was securely locked in the attaché case stowed beside his feet.
Ever wary, Rhys carried out a full sweep of the area they were passing through, paying particular attention to what he could see through the rear-view mirror.
With nothing appearing out of place, he returned his attention to the woman beside him.
Taylor had—understandably—been quiet for most of the journey so far.
“Hey.” He tried to keep his tone light as he squeezed her hand. “How are you doing?”
“I’ll be glad when this is over and we’re headed home,” Taylor replied. “At least then, I’ll know what’s going to happen next.”
“Let me guess—you’ve been trying to think of all the possible outcomes of the meeting with Livingston, and what possible courses of action might be the result.”
“Something like that,” she admitted. “And I can’t help but worry that Rachel might have gotten something wrong, and they’ll arrest me for being an accessory, after all.”
“They won’t,” Rhys asserted. He raised her hand to his lips to kiss the back of her fingers. “But if they do, I promise I’ll break you out, and we’ll go on the run together.”
Taylor’s gaze shot from the window to him, and after a moment of indecision, she rolled her eyes and managed a short burst of weak laughter. “You idiot,” she declared, the affection in her voice belying her words. “You really think this is going to work out all right?”
“I don’t think so—I know so.”
He refused to believe otherwise. Taylor was an innocent pawn when it came to whatever game her father had been playing, and not for the first time, Rhys had to quell the desire to punch the man’s lights out at such time as he ever met the bastard.
“I agree,” Nick chipped in. “Rachel knows what she’s talking about.”
“Hey, Rachel’s right here, and she does know what she’s talking about.
I called Cruz to give him some background in advance of the meeting.
Just bear in mind he has a job to do, to get to the bottom of this and decide what crimes have been committed.
He’ll listen to what you have to say, including all your concerns. He’ll be tough but fair.”
“It’s the tough part that worries me,” Taylor confessed.
“Don’t. Worry, I mean,” Rhys elaborated.
He didn’t want her to worry about anything for the rest of her life.
“We’ll be there with you. It’s not as if he’ll be interrogating you with a view to charging you.
You’ve done nothing wrong. You trusted your father to do the right thing—it’s not your fault that he… ”
Turned out to be a deceitful, lying, thieving son of a bitch, but he couldn’t really say that. Not yet, at any rate. Everyone was innocent until proved guilty.
“It’s my fault that I let it run for so long.”
Rhys shook his head. “You did what any daughter would do—you trusted the man who brought you up, loved you, and cared for you. It’s only natural you’d want to give him the benefit of the doubt and every chance to do the right thing.”
“Maybe so, but if he loves me, why has he treated me the way he has?”
A good question, for which Rhys had no answer, but he knew who should. “When the opportunity arises, put your father on the spot and ask him, face to face.”
“I know this is crazy, but part of me isn’t sure I want to,” Taylor admitted. “If I’m honest, I’m afraid of what he might say.”
Rhys wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his body, as if by doing so, he could protect her from her fears. “Then I’ll ask him for you, and if I don’t like what he has to say… Let’s just say, I could make it a valuable learning experience for him.”
He meant it, too.
“If it comes down to that,” Nick said dryly, “I’ll provide you with an alibi.”
“You see,” Rhys said. “We’re all on your side.”
Her smile was a little uncertain, but at least it held a hint of levity. “Thanks. Good to know.”
When they finally came off the interstate they were only minutes away from their destination.
After finding somewhere to park, they reported in at reception in the imposing building that housed the FBI field office.
They were given visitor’s badges, and were told that Special Agent Livingston would be apprised of their arrival.
“So, I guess we wait,” Nick murmured as they took their seats in the public section of the lobby, separated from the rest of the floor by an access-controlled barrier. People came and went, but none of them showed any interest in their group.
“I wonder how long he’ll be,” Taylor muttered.
“It’s okay,” Rhys reassured her. “We arrived early. He’s not going to forget we’re here.”
“You sure about that?” Taylor asked, clearly not convinced.
“Not one hundred percent,” he admitted, “but as good as. We’ll be in for an hour, if that, and on our way home before we know it.”
He liked the sound of going home with Taylor.
“Don’t forget—it’s just a meeting,” he added.
Taylor shot him a skeptical look. “I’ll let you remind him about that.”
Rhys glanced at his watch—three more minutes, and the agent would be running late. He scanned the lobby again, and this time, his senses went on alert at the sight of a man approaching the barrier, whose gaze seemed to be fixed on them. “I think we’re about to get some company.”
The man was tall, well over six feet, with black hair and dark eyes, physically fit, undoubtedly an asset if fighting on the same side… and a formidable enemy if not. He swiped his ID, passed through the barrier and approached them. “Ms. Markham? Good afternoon. I’m Special Agent Cruz Livingston.”
All four of them stood as he extended his hand to Taylor. “Special Agent Livingston. Thank you for seeing us.”
“Thank you for coming in so promptly. Rachel, good to see you again.”
“You too, Cruz.”
Once the introductions were complete, he led the way to the barrier. “If you’d like to come with me to my office, we’ll get this meeting underway. Rachel gave me some of the background, but I’d like to hear it straight from you, from the beginning.”
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On entering Livingston’s office, Taylor’s anxiety level decreased by at least a couple of notches, thanks to the aesthetically pleasing balance between sleek bureaucratic efficiency and proud Texas heritage.
The atmosphere—far less intimidating than she’d anticipated—made the man taking his place behind the impressively tidy desk seem a little more human and a little less forbidding.
“If you’d all like to take a seat?” Livingston said. “Ms. Markham?”
Since he was specifically indicating the center chair, and not wanting to do anything to jeopardize her situation, she obeyed. Rhys took the chair to her right, Rachel the one to her left, leaving the chair on the other side of her for Nick.
“Have you had an opportunity to look through the notes I sent you?” Rachel asked.
“Some, but if it’s okay with you, Ms. Markham, I’d like to hear it all from the beginning.
I’d also like to record this meeting, with your consent, so that I have an accurate narrative to refer to later.
For the record, this is purely a fact-finding exercise.
You are not under arrest and I am not questioning you as a potential perpetrator of a crime. ”
Taylor glanced in the direction of Rachel, who gave her an encouraging smile and a nod. Taylor gave her consent. “Yes, that’s fine, Special Agent Livingston.”
“Thank you.” He opened a desk drawer, withdrew a small digital voice recorder, and switched it on. After he made an opening comment to document the nature of the meeting, Taylor relaxed a little more.
His gaze came to rest on her. “Ms. Markham, in as much detail as you can remember, please would you describe the sequence of events that have led to your attendance at this office today.”
How long did he have? Suddenly, the hour scheduled for the meeting seemed too little. Still, the agent had asked, and she was—relatively—happy to oblige.
“I believe this actually started a few years ago, when I used to live and work in New York, as did my father, Charles Markham. He was an accountant at KDT until… everything went wrong.”
“In what way?” the agent prompted.
“Again, this is just a feeling I have, that this… that what happened is connected to this in some way. I was seeing someone—his name was Wyatt Harman. I met him through my father, because he worked for KDT as well. Everything was going well between us, until they pulled him out of the river. He’d been shot.
Would this investigation lead to reopening the investigation into his murder? ”
“I can’t say, Ms. Markham, but if your information does lead to an investigation, there’s a strong possibility it would be within scope. What happened then?”
“I called my father to tell him. I think that might have been the actual trigger.”
As Taylor recounted the events that followed, she was more grateful than Rhys would ever know for the strength in the hand that covered hers.
She was mortified by how gullible she’d been for allowing her father to keep her in the dark for years, waiting for him to tell her he’d done the right thing.
“Looking back, I can’t believe how naive I was,” she confessed.
“I tried calling him on his old cell phone number, but it was dead, and he ignored the questions in my letters. There was nothing I could do. With the arrangements we’d made to communicate, I had no way of finding out where he was located. ”
“And all that time you had no idea why he’d told you to give up everything and leave the city?”
Livingston’s expression held a hint of skepticism, and Taylor couldn’t blame him. “You must think I’m a massive fool for letting him get away with this for so long.”