Chapter Eight #3
“If it’s to be believed? I was on the phone with her.”
“You heard what she wanted you to believe.”
“Oh, give me a break.”
“I’m simply pointing out that you don’t know who she is and only believed her because she added tears to her voice and panic to her words. She could’ve played you—”
“Are you out of your—” He caught himself and bit the inside of his cheeks.
“They went after her and the Dumonts simultaneously. They probably see her as a potential witness. Their worst-case scenario was probably Amelia reaching out for help, which she did. I don’t know why you don’t have her in protective custody. ”
Beth ignored his jab.
Camden shook his head. He wasn’t going to get anything from Beth. He ran a hand over his face. “Other than your harebrained idea about Amelia, you don’t know who they are?”
Beth shook her head. “Not the slightest clue. But remember, I’m not a handler. I wouldn’t be privy to that information.”
He lifted his palms, frustrated. “Why isn’t their handler here?”
The corners of Beth’s eyes tightened. Her expression faltered almost imperceptibly before she neutralized it. “She’s dead.”
“Well… shit.”
That caught him off guard. The Dumonts weren’t the only victims.
“I’m guessing natural causes have been ruled out.”
“They have.”
“Are your powers that be assuming the same person who went after the Dumonts went after the handler?”
“That’s so far above my pay grade that I haven’t asked.”
Camden sipped his coffee and thought over the situation. “Their handler’s dead. Jonathan’s dead. Hailey is missing. They took her because…?”
Beth shrugged as if his wildest guesses could be valid.
Camden continued, “They’ll interrogate her until she breaks. And if she doesn’t, it’ll be the same fate as if she had.”
Beth nodded. “Survival is unlikely.”
“And you have no idea what they want to know?”
“Not a clue. No one read me into the information they were passing along.”
How did this all circle back to Amelia? Why had investigators asked if she was aware of her sister’s location? “What’s going to happen with Amelia?”
“The public-facing investigation will turn up as many salacious possibilities as possible. Names will be muddied, and motives will be tossed around like confetti.”
“Anything to murk up the investigation,” he concluded. “Bet their families will love that.”
“That’s the ugly truth of things.” Beth swept her hair off her face. “Collateral damage will be small and manageable. It’s really just Amelia.”
“No parents or other siblings?”
“Hailey and Amelia have a distant aunt who begrudgingly fostered them when they were teenagers. From all reports, it wasn’t a happy home, and there hasn’t been contact in years.”
Amelia didn’t have any family other than Hailey.
He shook his head. “What about his family?”
“His parents have lived in France for years.”
Beth wasn’t telling him something.
Camden scrutinized her. “And?”
“I assume they’re devastated about their son. I haven’t spoken with them.”
Camden waited for whatever Beth was dragging out.
Beth relented. “They’re familiar with the possibilities that might unfold during this process.”
He gave Beth a sidelong glance. “They’re spooks too?”
Her facial expression confirmed his assumption. “You know I couldn’t tell you that even if I knew.”
“Which, of course, you don’t,” he muttered.
“Of course.”
The waitress arrived and served their main course.
If decadence was a dish, it was oatmeal soufflé with fresh fruit compote.
He wouldn’t have guessed oatmeal could look as regal as the room in which they were dining, but it did.
Camden tried the piping hot, light-as-air soufflé and had to give Beth credit for all but demanding he order the dish.
This thing was treat enough for him to ignore the bacon and potato side dishes he’d ordered.
They finished their soufflés before talking shop again, as though the rough-and-ugly world they lived in shouldn’t touch their meal. Finally, Camden picked at his bacon and potatoes while Beth sipped her espresso. “I think Amelia needs to be read in as much as she can be.”
Beth laughed. “What purpose would that serve?”
“She knows a lot more than—”
“And she’ll forget it.”
“Oh, come on. That’s bullshit. She knows what she knows, whether you confirm anything or not.”
“I have no influence whatsoever when it comes to the spin.”
“Your spin masters have agents asking questions like if she’s seen her sister. What kind of crap is that?”
“Like I said. It’s going to get ugly before it gets better.”
He’d learned all he could from meeting Beth. “Why the hell am I here? We could have had this conversation over a secure line.”
Beth studied him and lowered her gaze to her espresso, forehead pinched as though trying to work through calculus.
“What is it, Beth?” He laid his napkin on the table. “Because I’m done. Thanks for the great meal and all, but you’re holding back, and I’ve wasted my time.”
“If we tell her about her sister, it will change everything about their relationship.”
“Do you think Amelia cares?” He scoffed. “Hell, since when does the CIA care about emotional fallout?”
“I don’t know her, but for whatever reason, you seem to know what she thinks about. Care to explain that?”
Her accusation stopped him cold. He should push back and demand Beth stay in her lane. He could tell her to worry about the relatives of their agent, but that wouldn’t help Amelia. She wanted answers, and he wanted them for her. “She deserves to know.”
“If she learns about Hailey, Amelia will open herself up to a world she didn’t know about. To dangers she’s otherwise inoculated to.”
“I think she wants to find her sister and doesn’t care if you pull back the curtain on whatever seedy, sketchy situation you’re so worried will sully her worldview. Give the woman an opportunity to handle the information instead of gaslighting her with a bullshit cover story?”
Beth gave a small shrug. “Again, none of this is my call, but I will pass along your thoughts.”
He smiled flatly.
“Are you going to see her while you’re out here?” Beth asked.
“No.”
His answer surprised them both. Beth eyed him expectantly and cupped her hands around the espresso. “Stick around for a couple days. We may need Titan’s help closing up loose ends with the Dumont investigation.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” But Camden didn’t take marching orders from the CIA. He would follow whatever directives Boss Man handed out.