Page 38 of Enigma (Pros and Cons Mysteries #6)

O live continued to give Simon a death glare.

He ignored her. “There’s something else, something that’s going to be even harder to hear.”

Jason stood and shifted closer to Olive, his stance protective, as if he wanted to shield her from what was to come. “What?”

Simon’s gaze locked on Olive. “I think your mother might have somehow survived the attack that killed the rest of your family.”

The room began to spin around Olive.

Jason grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bed.

She sat down hard on the mattress—nearly collapsing—as she tried to process Simon’s words. “That’s impossible. I saw her body. She was dead.”

“Bodies can be misidentified, especially in traumatic circumstances. Dental records can be falsified if someone has the right connections.” Simon’s voice sounded gentle but persistent. “The organization your family was involved with had access to all those resources.”

“You’re saying my mother faked her own death?” Olive’s voice rose with each word. “That she let me believe she was dead for eight years?”

Jason pulled her closer.

“I’m saying it’s possible.” Simon reached into his jacket and pulled out a tablet, swiping to a photograph. “This is the woman who approached Lloyd at his workplace in Florida. She’s the same woman who likely drugged him and orchestrated his disappearance.”

He handed Olive the tablet.

The image was grainy, taken from what looked like security camera footage. But it showed a middle-aged woman in professional clothing. She had graying brown hair pulled back in a neat style, and despite the poor image quality, her features were clearly visible.

Olive stared at the photograph, her hands beginning to shake.

The woman did look like an older version of her mother. The same bone structure, the same way of holding her shoulders, even the same slight tilt of her head when she was listening to someone speak.

“It can’t be,” Olive breathed.

But even as she said the words, her mind raced.

She remembered her mother’s lessons on human nature. The way Mom could read people so accurately. Her skills at making people see exactly what she wanted them to see.

Olive remembered those flower-arranging lessons . . . had they really been lessons in deception and manipulation?

She remembered the bruise on her mother’s face that time, and how expertly she’d covered it with makeup.

The way Mom had seemed to know exactly how to present herself to neighbors, to teachers, to anyone who might ask uncomfortable questions about their family.

“Could it be?” Olive whispered, staring at the photograph.

Jason leaned closer to see the image, and his breath caught. “I’m not going to lie. I can see the resemblance.”

The room fell silent as they all stared at the evidence on the tablet.

“If my mom is alive,” Olive said each word slowly. “If she’s been alive this whole time and leading this organization . . . then everything I believed about my family, about my childhood, about why they were killed—all of it was a lie.”

After Simon left with a promise to be in touch, the hotel room felt impossibly quiet. He had granted her request and sent her an image of the woman so she could examine it herself.

Olive sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the carpet while Jason closed and locked the door behind their unexpected visitor.

She felt his eyes on her, sensed the weight of unasked questions filling the space between them.

“I know we need to talk about your mom. I know you’re hurting. But . . .” Jason’s voice was carefully controlled, but she heard the hurt underneath. “You knew this guy was following us—you saw him in the hospital—and you didn’t think to mention it?”

Olive looked up at him and saw the familiar tension in his jaw. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Jason remained by the door, his arms crossed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like more secrets—just like you didn’t mention investigating my father before going to Florida.”

She wanted to argue with his statement, but she couldn’t. She knew how this looked.

“I tried to call Simon. He never answered.” Olive stood up, needing to move. “The case in Maine was classified. I couldn’t talk about it, even to you.”

“I understand you not mentioning details of your cases. I get that. But the fact that this guy showed up in Florida, that he followed you . . . those things could have been mentioned.” Jason’s voice remained level, but she saw the strain in his posture.

“Instead, I had to find out when a stranger was sitting in our hotel room.”

Olive ran her hands through her hair, frustration and guilt warring in her chest. “You’re right. I should have told you. I just . . . I’ve gotten used to keeping things compartmentalized. Work secrets, personal life, cases that might be dangerous.”

Keep work things work and private things private.

That was what her dad had always said.

Not that she wanted to listen to his advice.

Apparently, she shouldn’t listen to her mom’s either.

A rock settled on her chest at the thought.

Jason contemplated her response for a moment, his expression unreadable.

What would he say? Was this the final straw?

Olive held her breath as she waited.