Page 24 of The Shadow Friends

“It wouldn’t surprise me. But I can’t name any. Like I said, we hardly spoke. I don’t even know if she had any family.”

“We’ll find that out.” Jo closed her notebook. “Since this is a major crime, the state police will take over the investigation. They’ll want to talk to you as well.” Jo stood up to leave.

“Do you think we’re safe?” Hannah asked. “Because I certainly don’t feel safe. Some of us are talking about quitting. Could he—could the killer still be here?”

It was a reasonable question, one that Jo couldn’t answer. All she could tell them was the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter 10

Ingrid

Sunday

They agreed to meet at the trailhead at the base of Mount Cameron, where they could be assured of privacy. It had been a long time since she’d felt the need to be so furtive, but there were too many new faces in town, too many chances of being seen or overheard. This was about more than national security; she also did not want Lloyd to know about this meeting, because he’d have questions, and she couldn’t deal with those right now. The one person who’d understand her concerns, the one person she could confide in, was Rodrigo.

He was also the last person she wanted to be alone with, but here she was, pacing among the fallen autumn leaves as she waited for him. This morning, a thick fog bank had settled over the coastline, and here in the woods, mist clung to the ground. She was the only one at the trailhead this morning, and the forest was eerily quiet. She heard no chirping birds, no squirrels rustling among the leaves, and the silence magnified the sound of her own breathing. Once again, she checked her phone for messages. Nothing from Rodrigo.

She was still focused on her screen when suddenly, magically, he was right there, emerging from the mist. Rodrigo still walked with the stride of a young man, his shoulders unbowed by the passage of seven decades. He did not call out a greeting but merely nodded to her, an acknowledgment that whatever they were about to discuss should not be announced to the world.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked.

“I shared some of the details with my friends. And Lloyd.”

“Why?”

“They’ll learn about the stiletto soon enough, from the police report. I want to bring them into this, Rodrigo. They can help. And I trust them to stay silent.”

“What if we’re forced to take extreme measures? If we deal with this ourselves, it can stay between us. No one else has to know.”

“They’d never betray me.”

“No matter how far we take this? How many rules we break?”

“Rules?” She laughed. “You’ve always been good at breaking those.”

“When it’s necessary. When it’s needed to complete the mission. This may be one of those times.”

She turned and walked a few paces away, just to put distance between them. Their shared past was clouding her judgment. She knew him well enough to know his talent for persuasion, and she needed the next decision to be hers, and hers alone.

“Twenty-eight years ago,” he said, “I didn’t believe you.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“That day they attacked the safe house, you told me there was a fifth man in the vehicle. When I found you, you were barely conscious, so I didn’t trust your recollection. I thought you were just confused, after the blast. But now I think you may have been right.”

She shook her head. “I just don’t know anymore.”

“Ingrid, I think you do know. Isn’t that why you called me?” He moved toward her, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. “You called because you felt something. You sensed the truth, even if you’re trying to back away from it now. Be honest.”

She stared down at the forest floor. At the brilliant carpet of fallen leaves. “When I saw the woman in the trunk of her car,” she said quietly, “it all came back to me. The day in Provence, standing in the garden where Gordon died. I saw that stiletto in his eye . . .”

“Tell me what else you remember about that day.”

She paced around the clearing as she recalled the terrible details of that summer day in the valley of lavender. Some of it was a blur, because the explosion had knocked her backward, blacking out part of her memory. She remembered the seconds before it happened, crouching behind the bed, which had cushioned her from the worst of the blast, and had probably saved her life. She remembered aiming her weapon at the barricaded door, waiting for the enemy to break through. Waiting for the end.

Then came a blank spot, a gap in her memory, followed by the sound of Rodrigo’s voice, calling her name.