Chapter 71
But I bet those search volumes pale in comparison to the number of us stalking our exes.
It takes just thirty seconds to learn that Coveleigh Ravenstock is still alive and still in the FBI’s Cleveland field office. And he’s been promoted to deputy director.
Lily is sleeping and Amber is unpacking, so now’s a good time to call him. I want to do it before I lose my nerve. My fingers are shaking as I dial the number. A woman answers.
“Mr. Ravenstock’s office.”
“Hello,” I say. “I’m, um, an old friend of Cove’s and I’m wondering if he’s there.”
“May I tell him who’s calling?” she asks. Yes, she may, but it’s been so long since I used my real name, I almost say Caroline Babulewicz. I catch myself just in time.
“Tell him it’s Elinor Gilbert.”
“Let me check,” she says. I take a deep breath. While she puts me on hold, I think of all the possible options.
He’s not there.
He’s there, but he doesn’t remember me and won’t take my call.
He’s there, he does remember me, and won’t take my call.
He’s there, he thinks he remembers me, but he wants his secretary to ask what this is in reference to.
Then I hear Cove’s voice.
“El-i-nor,” he says. And I smile. It’s the way he always said my name—slowly, gently, giving all three syllables equal time.
Does he sound the same? Hard to say. My heart is beating so loud, I can barely hear him.
“Um, hi,” I say. I’m doing a really first-rate impression of a tongue-tied teenager.
“This is a surprise,” he says. “A nice surprise.”
“Yes,” I say. “Well, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yes,” he says.
Yes? Is he agreeing that it’s good to hear his voice, or is he saying it’s good to hear my voice? I can’t believe I’m sitting here like a lovesick fourteen-year-old, trying to unpack what a guy really means when all he said was yes.
“Are you in Cleveland?” he asks.
“No,” I say. (Is he hoping I am?) “But something’s come up. Actually, a lot of things have come up and I don’t know how to handle them. And I tried to think of someone I could talk to and you’re the only one I can think of and—”
Cove interrupts me. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
So I do. I tell him how Alan Metcalf tracked me down for a special assignment. “Before you say anything,” I add quickly, “I know what you’re thinking. I never thought I would talk to him again either after what he did to me.”
“But you said yes?”
“I did.” If this were FaceTime or Zoom, I bet I’d be seeing Cove’s eyebrows knit together. “But that’s because he said that the FBI needed me for an undercover thing. And he made it sound so tempting. I could get my reputation back, my benefits reinstated, my back pay, and—”
“What’s the assignment?” he asks.
I tell him about everything, starting with the Russian lady who styled me, the nanny job, the agency looking for evidence of money laundering, and about life with the Harrisons.
I bring in Carlos, the dead snake, the gallery party, Luis, Graham Loxton, his threats, his death, and how I was followed from the dog park and rear-ended.
Then I tell him what I just discovered—that Ben apparently gave away a painting worth forty-five thousand dollars—and end with how Metcalf is ghosting me.
Cove listens and doesn’t say a word. Until he does.
“Something’s not right,” he says.
That’s it? “Everything’s not right,” I say.
“No. I mean Metcalf ghosting you—that’s unacceptable. The one thing a handler must do is keep in touch with the informer.”
“I know. It’s so annoying.”
“Oh, it’s more than that.” Now his voice gets very quiet: “Ellie, your life depends on it.”
Of course. He’s right. Now I’m breathless for a whole other reason.
“Tell you what,” Cove says after a moment. “Let me make a few phone calls. Do a little checking. Okay?”
“Sure,” I say, still trying to process what he said.
“Is this the best number to reach you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m really sorry to bother you with all this, but I didn’t know who else I could talk to.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he says. I can hear the kindness in his voice. If I don’t cut this conversation short, I’m afraid I’ll start to cry.
It dawns on me after I hang up that I never asked him about his life, his wife, his kids. But maybe that’s just as well.