Page 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I t was late afternoon by the time Callan and Alyssa reached the outskirts of Augusta. Callan aimed for a bookstore that had an attached coffee shop. The rain that followed them north had finally tapered off, and sunshine peeked through the thick clouds, sparkling against the wet pavement.

“You sure you don’t want to come shopping with me?” Callan asked. “You could work later, whenever we get to the hotel.” Alyssa had reserved adjoining rooms for them while he'd driven.

“Hmm… My choices are to use my strengths to try to protect my family or shop for boring men’s clothes. What do you think?”

He shouldn’t have bothered asking. Of course she wouldn’t reconsider, even if the thought of leaving her on her own twisted something in his gut.

Callan was more impressed with this analyst-turned-cyber-investigator all the time. She had zero field experience, yet she’d played Ghazi like a cello, using both fear and frustration to cover for the lies she told.

Whether Ghazi truly believed her remained to be seen, but if he didn’t, that would be the result of a suspicious nature, not any shortcomings on Alyssa’s part.

Her father had been a top-notch spook in his day, and though she looked nothing like the dark-haired man Callan had only seen in photos, in other ways, the apple hadn’t rolled far from the tree.

He and Alyssa only had two days to figure out what Ghazi was up to before he’d expect information from her. And if she didn’t provide it…

Malcolm was working on figuring out how the Russian played into Ghazi’s plans.

Maybe the woman in the photo Callan had seen in Ghazi’s room had nothing to do with anything, but it was another lead that needed following. Michael had texted earlier saying he was still working on it.

When Callan had told Alyssa about the photograph and her cousin’s response, she’d been exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” They’d been leaving the hotel room. “I could’ve been looking for her all morning.”

“I didn’t think of it last night,” he’d said. “And we’ve been sort of busy today.”

They’d decided that she could start searching while he bought some clothes. His least favorite chore—shopping. But he couldn’t exactly wear dirty joggers to her grandparents’ anniversary party the following day.

He stopped at the curb in front of the bookstore. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you.”

“There’s no way he can track me here.”

“Your laptop?—”

“I know how to hide my location, Callan. They won’t find me.”

“Okay. Fine. But… If anything happens, or if you feel the slightest bit worried or even get a bad feeling, call me. Don’t text, don’t email. Call.”

“So I should call?” Her eyes widened in false confusion. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“You want me to show you how it works?”

“Haha. Let me know when you’re on your way so I can be looking for you.” She opened the door.

He took her hand, which he’d done so many times in the last few days that it felt perfectly natural. It shouldn’t, considering that before Wednesday, they hadn’t seen each other in years. She shouldn’t mean more to him than any coworker would.

She did, though. That was the problem. One of the problems.

Another problem was the terrorist trying to manipulate her into helping him pull off some unknown…something.

The biggest problem came in the form of a precious eight-year-old girl, thoughts of whom should push out any attraction or romantic feelings he had for the woman at his side.

Her eyebrows hiked. “Did you need something, or do you just like holding my hand?”

Yes to both?

“If you learn anything, email it to me and to your cousin, just in case.”

Her amusement faded. “Will do.”

Reluctantly, Callan released her, and she grabbed her laptop bag from the floorboard and walked inside.

She’d be fine. Of course she’d be fine.

Callan drove a few short blocks to a strip mall where he’d done his share of shopping over the years. Mom used to bring him and Hannah here every summer to buy new school clothes. Hannah would insist she had to try on every new style—in every single color. She couldn’t make a single decision until she knew all the options in the entire mall.

Meanwhile, Callan would grab the cheapest jeans, T-shirts, and sweatshirts he could find. He’d only use the dressing room if his mother made him. And then he’d be finished shopping and bored, slumped in a chair—or on the floor, if that was all he could find—to wait for his slow-as-mud little sister.

But when they were loaded down with shopping bags filled with jeans and sweaters and underwear and jackets and shoes and all manner of things, Mom would take them to lunch. When Dad could get off work to meet them, he did. It didn’t matter that it was cheap fast food. For his family, it was a rare treat.

These days, he didn’t have to search for the least expensive items, but old habits weren’t easy to break, no matter how his savings account grew.

He looked for sales and found a pair of trousers, a button-down shirt, and a sports coat, though Alyssa had said that last was optional. But they’d need to go forward with the whole fake-engagement thing in front of her family, just in case Ghazi was watching. They had to assume he was, which meant Alyssa would need to deceive her entire family.

He hadn’t broken that to her yet.

It was the reason that, even though they were within thirty minutes of his family, he didn’t plan to take her there. If he got a chance to go home and visit Peri, he would take it, but he wouldn’t be taking Alyssa with him.

Ghazi didn’t know who Callan really was, but anytime they were in public together, they needed to keep up the ruse, just in case. And much as he’d insist she had to lie to her family, he would avoid lying to his own at all costs.

So, he chose clothes that fit the part of a fiancé who wanted to make a good impression.

His phone buzzed with a text, and he glanced at it on his way to the checkout counter. It was from Alyssa, an image. He clicked on it and froze.

It was the woman who’d been photographed with Ghazi.

Another text came through.

Is this her?

Yes! How did you do that so fast?

She added a little haha to his text, then responded with,

I got skills, baby.

A second later, she added…

Michael helped. :) I’m looking into her.

After he paid for the clothes, he headed to a discount department store, where he picked out a pair of black dress shoes that would probably last the duration of the party—though not much longer—socks, and a few more casual things to tide him over for the next few days.

Callan was at the cash register when his phone rang. The Agency had activated his old number on the new phone, so it could be anyone.

He snatched it, relieved to see it wasn’t Alyssa. It was Hannah.

He signed the credit card machine and took his things, thanking the clerk. On his way to the door, he answered the call. “Hey, sis.”

“Thank God you answered.”

He froze. “What’s wrong? Is it Peri?”

“Not Peri. It’s Dad. He had a heart attack.”

* * *

Callan pushed through the door at the emergency room and rushed to the woman behind the desk. “My father was brought in. Hank…Henry Templeton.”

“I think he’s been moved already.” She peered at a computer screen. “Yes, up to cardiology.”

Callan had texted Alyssa from the car, sitting at a stoplight.

My dad had a heart attack. On my way to the hospital. Get an Uber to the hotel and check in, and I’ll meet you there.

She’d texted back,

Which hospital?

Just finish what you’re doing and get some dinner. I’ll see you soon.

Not that Callan wouldn’t love for her to be by his side, but that would cause too many problems.

She’d shared a lot of her life with him, but he’d kept the most important thing about himself a secret.

He needed to remedy that. Even if nothing but friendship came of his relationship with Alyssa, she deserved to know the truth about him.

He was heading toward the room a nurse had told him was his dad’s when his sister stepped into the hallway.

Hannah took after their paternal grandmother with her curly brown hair and brown eyes. Like Nana, she was petite, a foot shorter than Callan. Despite having the same last name and living in a tiny town, people who knew both of them rarely guessed they were brother and sister.

Hannah wasn’t exactly the put-together type. Her curls were usually unruly, and she rarely wore makeup. When she wasn’t working, she preferred leggings to jeans or slacks and often paired them with oversized sweatshirts. Today, she wore one emblazoned with the name of his alma mater, Boston College. He’d bought the sweatshirt his freshman year—and been certain he’d lost it. The little thief.

He missed his sister.

She was, as a rule, a cheerful person. Fun to be around and one of his closest friends. Their easy friendship had become strained after Peri had stepped into the picture. Not because of the child—Hannah adored her niece—but because of Callan’s failures.

When Hannah saw him, she froze, a frown in place.

“Did something happen?”

She walked toward him, and he opened up to give her a hug, but she stopped short a few feet away. “How are you here?”

“What are you talking about?” He dropped his arms. “You called me.”

“How are you already here?”

Oh. Right.

They’d left Portland because they hadn't wanted Ghazi tracking them down.

They’d come to Augusta because he’d hoped that, if there was time and if it was safe, he’d be able to visit Peri. But he hadn’t been sure, so he hadn’t told his family he was coming. He hadn’t wanted to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“I just got to town a little while ago. How’s Dad?”

“They took him for tests. When they’re finished, they’ll bring him to his room.”

“Did you see him? Were you there?”

“How could I be?” She threw the words like missiles. “I have a job, too, you know. Which I left early so I could pick up Peri from school.”

Usually, Mom or Dad did that. Maybe his confusion showed on his face because Hannah blew out an exasperated breath.

“I told you on the phone the other night that Dad wasn’t feeling well. Mom was exhausted from taking care of him and your kid?—”

“Hey. Don’t be…” He took a breath and exhaled his desire to defend himself. “Can we cover all my shortcomings later? Would you please tell me what you know about Dad?”

Her gaze flicked away. Her eyes were rimmed in red, her cheeks blotchy. His sweet, tenderhearted sister was always willing to jump in and help everyone. But sometimes, people took advantage.

Like he’d been doing for months. Not just taking advantage of her but of Mom and Dad too.

“I’m sorry.” He gripped her arms and pulled her in for a hug. She didn’t return it, but he deserved that.

He rubbed her back. “It’s okay. They’ll take good care of Dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I’ve asked so much of you lately.”

She let him hold her for another moment, then pulled away.

“Where’s Peri?” he asked. “Did you get a sitter, or?—?”

"She's here." Again, Hannah's gaze flicked past him toward the elevator. “They told us it would be an hour at least before Dad’s up here, so Mom took her for a walk. I’m sure they’ll be back any minute.”

He was itching to hold his daughter, hug his mother, and see his dad, even though all of them probably felt about Callan the way Hannah did.

“Were you even going to tell us you were in town?” Hannah asked.

“It was a last-minute decision.”

She touched his swollen lip. “Those bruises have anything to do with that decision?”

“It’s a long story. I was planning to call. I just wasn’t sure of my plans, and I didn’t want to disappoint?—”

“You didn’t want to commit. You wanted to keep your options open. That’s what you do.”

Not true. He was great at committing. To work. To his career. To school.

But where Peri was concerned…

It shamed him to admit it, but Hannah wasn’t wrong.

Now wasn’t the time to figure his life out. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a text. “I’m going to let Mom know I’m here. Should we wait in the room, or?—?”

“I can’t sit in there anymore.” She moved past him toward the nurses station, and he fell into step beside her. “Mom hasn’t told me much. He’d been nauseated for a couple of days. Then this afternoon he had heartburn, more symptoms of what he thought was a stomach bug.” The hospital wasn’t very big, so their circuit took them down another hall, where they retraced their steps. “She said his color was off, and then he started complaining of shoulder and arm pain, and she realized what was going on. She got him in the car and brought him here. She didn’t call me until they’d confirmed it was a heart attack.”

Hannah seemed annoyed by that, but Callan figured she ought not to complain.

Mom hadn’t called him at all.

“They caught it early,” Hannah said, “but still…”

“A heart attack is a heart attack.”

“Yeah.”

Callan had asked his parents for too much. He’d known that, but he’d done it anyway.

Now, Dad was in the hospital, literally fighting for his life.