Page 89 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Risking my life?

No. I can’t believe I heard correctly. I’ve been following leads ever since William disappeared. I asked Lizzie to help me track down the truth, and I have no intention of stopping.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “What exactly are you saying?

Graham pauses. “The intel is sketchy, but there is information in these files about the identity of the men who shot you.”

“Are you telling me they were after William and me and not Polina?”

“It’s very possible. There are a lot of things about William you don’t know, Samantha. Inconsistencies about missions he went on. Questions about who he was really working for.”

I shake my head, then catch his gaze. “Why should I believe any of this?”

“Inside the intel I brought, there are two separate files on William that show discrepancies in his logs.”

I still don’t understand. “There are always things that are off the books.”

“One says that William was in Moscow in 2022. A surveillance photo places him in Casablanca at the same time.”

“That’s not possible.”

“No, it’s not.”

But it was also before I knew him, so I can’t defend him.

“You’re saying he could be a traitor?” I ask.

“I’m saying you’re walking through dangerous territory.”

I take a step away from him, not even trying to stop the anger in my voice. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because there are also people who are questioning your loyalty.”

“That’s why Basile was watching me?”

“I believe it’s connected.”

“You think William disappeared on purpose?”

“I think it’s very possible,” Graham says.

I press my hand against my chest and feel my heart racing. I’m suddenly questioning everything, including my ability to read people.

I pull the papers from the envelope and quickly look them over. I’ll need to go through them more carefully, but an initial scan seems to imply that William betrayed the CIA.

That be he betrayed me.

Anyone who works for the agency knows the dangers of being poached.

There are foreign governments trying to recruit us to their side.

To turn us in order to get information. I had to have missed something.

Was William targeted by some other country?

Did he sell or share intel to an enemy government?

No. It wasn’t possible. I knew William on a level that most people didn’t. I trusted him with my life. We didn’t hold secrets from each other.

Or did we?

Our lives as agents revolve around keeping secrets. Blending in and making sure no one knows who we are. Who better to keep a secret than an intelligence officer? What if I never really knew him? What if—for whatever reason—I’d only been used by him.

I want to believe I’m wrong, but all I have to do is look at the information in front of me, and the doubts begin to form.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Graham says, interrupting my thoughts. “My job is to keep you alive, and I’m worried that there are people who will try to silence you if you keep pressing for answers.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s motivation for me to keep looking for answers.” I stare at the file, terrified of its implications. “They told you to talk to me, didn’t they? Someone higher up. Someone who doesn’t believe I’m innocent. Whoever wants me to stop asking questions.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I turn away at his silence, frustrated at the situation he’s put me in. But on some level, I’m grateful, because it’s information I need to know. If they’re watching me. . .If William somehow betrayed his country. . .

No. That wasn’t possible.

I press my lips together, unable to admit my relationship with William could have been a sham.

It simply wasn’t possible. I wouldn’t have missed something like that.

Because our relationship had been real. William’s feelings for me and our plans for the future together.

It all had been real. I would have known if it wasn’t true.

But if I’m wrong? The thought that William might have betrayed me changes everything. Makes me doubt every conversation.

“I need to know where you got this information,” I say finally.

He won’t meet my eyes.

“Graham. . .”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this.” He catches my gaze. “We have to trust each other. I need you to know that I’m on your side.”

I shake my head. “Are you really on my side? Because from where I’m standing, if you really were on my side, you wouldn’t leave me in the dark. What do they think I’m going to find?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he says, and, somehow, I believe him.

“If this is all true, I don’t know what’s worse,” I say quietly. “That I missed it…or that maybe part of me didn’t want to see it. Because if I’d looked too closely, maybe I’d have had to admit William wasn’t telling me everything.”

Graham doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His silence is steady and surprisingly grounding.

I draw in a slow breath, wanting to lash out at him. Wanting to tell him that he can’t understand how I feel.

Instead, I asked quietly, “Have you ever lost someone?”

“Yes. My oldest brother’s name was Patrick.

He was strong, very disciplined, and fiercely patriotic.

The day he turned eighteen, he enlisted.

I’m not sure exactly why. If it was a deep sense of duty, or if he needed to prove himself for some reason.

But he was invincible to me. He rose quickly through the ranks, proving just why he was my hero. ”

Graham pauses for a moment, then says, “During his last deployment something went very wrong. I’m not sure where he was, but there was an ambush. Patrick went missing. There was no body. No evidence. He was just gone.”

I feel a spike of guilt that washes away some of my anger. Maybe this is his motivation for coming to me.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Graham nods. “He was reported as MIA, but we never gave up on him. My mother, especially, she always believed that we would find him one day. I think it was the only way she could keep going. There were never answers. Some rumors. Some said he’d been killed somewhere in the Middle East. There were even rumors that he and another soldier had been captured. ”

Graham lets out a sharp breath, and I wait quietly, letting him steady his emotions before he continues.

“Then one day he returned. He never spoke about what happened to him. We assume he was a prisoner of war. He came back malnourished, scarred from being tortured, and changed. He used to be loud and always telling jokes. Now he’s quiet.

He says he’s forgotten certain things. I don’t know if those are things that he can’t explain or just won’t.

Because he wasn’t lost. We know that. Someone kept him all that time.

He’s done his best to rebuild his life. But every day is a challenge.

It’s been six years now, and there have been days when he was on suicide watch.

Days when I found my mother crying because it wasn’t her son that came back.

Sometimes you have to be careful what you pray for. ”

“I’m sorry.”

“You had no way of knowing. I only told you his story, because I want you to know that I understand loss and I’m on your side in this.”

“Is that why you joined the CIA?” I ask.

“I was just starting college when Patrick went missing. I struggled for a long time to know what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be like Patrick, but everyone thought he was a hero. He gave his everything for his country. I couldn’t compete with him.

So for a while I made a lot of bad decisions.

Found myself headed down a very different path.

And then when Patrick came back, something clicked inside me.

I joined the Marines and later was recruited by the CIA. ”

“What does your mother think about that decision?”

“She’s one of the few people who actually knows what I do. I think she realizes that, like Patrick, I may not come home. She’s happy that her other three sons are a schoolteacher, a CPA, and a barber.”

“Sometimes we forget that our family’s job can be as hard as ours.”

The waiting. The uncertainty. I know it’s not easy.

“I try to contact her as often as I can. Patrick lives with my parents. He works full-time for a nonprofit that services veterans. I know it helps him as much as he helps others, but it’s still hard.”

“I guess we simply don’t know what the future holds. Just like we can never go back and change the past,” I say.

Because I know I can’t undo what happened on that bridge that day, but to stop searching for the truth?

“I don’t think I can promise I won’t keep digging for the truth.”

“If I’m honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to convince you to stop searching. But at least promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will.”

Graham glances at the door. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

“I know you’re tired, but tomorrow I’d like to come back and up your security.”

“I don’t need?—”

“Let me help.”

I nod, not knowing what else to do.

The bottom line is I can’t sit back and do nothing. This isn’t about my protecting an asset from becoming a target. Instead, I’m afraid I might have become a target myself.