Page 83 of Deception

He opened the door and gave her a nod before leaving.

Being alone right now and clearing her head just might be one of the best things she could do for herself.

After Jason left, Olive sank into the couch and let her mind wander through everything that had happened, starting with Jason.

She could hardly believe he was here, and she wasn’t sure if she was excited or anxious about it. Honestly, both emotions could exist at the same time—and they did. She’d wondered when—or if—she’d see him again. Now they were back in Texas together.

That would take some time to process.

Then there was the man who’d attacked her at her old house. She had no idea who he was. The mystery surrounding him bothered her. Was he connected with her past? With her dad’s past? It just didn’t make sense.

Then there was the man on the motorcycle who’d shot at them. He added another layer of danger to everything. And there was the man who’d been watching from the woods who’d swung that stick at her head.

Olive had so much to think about right now. Unfortunately, Rebecca was sinking to the bottom of that list.

Olive couldn’t let that happen. Rebecca was the reason she was here. Rebecca was why she’d been hired.

Maybe the best thing she could do right now was to get some rest—although she halfway expected Mitzi to call with an update about her date.

She glanced at the time. Nine p.m. It was still relatively early, she realized. Mitzi probably wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. Was it worth it to sleep for only a few minutes, only to be woken again?

Possibly. Her body was achy and tired, and her mind needed to rest.

She leaned back into the couch. Olive still couldn’t get over the fact Matt had been married when he’d met Rebecca. Or the fact that Rebecca had always told stories to make herself seem important or special.

But none of that concretely proved she was lying now. That was what Olive needed.

Solid proof.

Olive would keep working on finding it.

For now, she stood and stretched and got ready for bed. Then she checked the locks on her door one more time and turned off the overhead lights. She climbed under her covers.

But just as she plugged in her phone to charge it, the device rang.

Surprise washed through her when she saw the name on the screen.

Tom Greer, the FBI agent who’d taken her in after her family was murdered. He rarely called her unless he had something important to say.

Olive stared at the phone a second before answering. Caution pulled tight between her shoulders—a sense of foreboding overcoming her. Was everyone okay?

“Tom . . .” Her voice sounded raspier than she’d anticipated.

“Hey, Ollie. How are you?”

She didn’t even know how to answer that, all things considered. She settled on, “Staying busy.”

“I bet you are.”

“Everything okay with you? Is Jill doing okay?”

“We’re both fine.” He paused. “Look, I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll just tell you why I called.”

“Please, do.”

“I just got a cryptic text message.”

The tension at her back pulled tighter. “Okay . . .”