Page 208 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately, making me wonder why he’s circling the conversation.

“I need to talk to you about a couple things, starting with Mr. Basile.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is no record of him having a wife or any children.”

I stare at Graham. Not sure if I heard him right. Not sure if I want to.

“He had a wife,” I say. “She passed away years ago, and her name was Elise. He showed me pictures of her and their son. In fact, I’ve met their son.”

“This isn’t easy to tell you, but you need to hear it. I have credible information that he never married. Never had children.”

I shake my head and feel the room start to spin. I don’t know what to think except it has to be a misunderstanding. I’ve seen those pictures. Mr. Basile told me they were of his wife. Of his son. Why would he lie to me about his family? And why would Graham even have information like this?

I decide to start with the information Graham is giving me. “Why would he lie about having a family? Why would he lie about who he was?”

“Because he was gathering intel on you.”

I lean forward. “I’m sorry, what?”

Graham rubs the back of his neck. “I know this isn’t easy to absorb, but he was gathering intel on you.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I’ve called in a favor to a friend in French intelligence to see if there’s a connection there, but I haven’t heard back. Right now, I just know he was hired by someone.”

I press my hand against my chest and shake my head. “He was an eighty-year-old man. Who hires an eighty-year-old man to do long-term surveillance? This. . . None of this makes any sense.”

Because I’m supposed to be the one watching, not the one being watched. And the idea that Mr. Basile—kind, harmless Mr. Basile—was collecting intel on me feels like a punch in the gut.

I start to replay every casual conversation, every quiet gesture, every afternoon wave across the hall. I let my guard down with him. Trusted him. All the while, he was studying me? Tracking me? If this was true, how was it possible that I didn’t see it?

“You’re sure about this?” I ask.

Graham nods. “You never suspected anything?”

“Of course not. Never.” I drop my hands to my sides. “Why would someone do this? What information were they trying to get out of me?”

Graham looks past me to the clock on the wall. The room is quiet, and I can hear the minute hand ticking off the seconds as I wait for him to answer.

“Graham?” I press.

“I believe the reason he was surveilling you is connected with William’s disappearance. Because I have evidence that William might have been working for another government.”

“No.” The word rips out of me. “No, that’s not possible. William would never betray his country.”

Would never betray me.

I stand up so fast the wooden legs of my chair skid across the floor. I start pacing in front of the window while my pulse pounds in my ears. I’m angry. . .confused. . .because what he’s saying implies that William’s disappearance wasn’t an accident or a coincidence. That it was planned. That there was definitely more behind what happened that day. Without even thinking, I swipe a stack of files off my desk. They hit the floor in a paper storm.

“Did you ever talk to him about William?” Graham asks. His voice is calm, but he’s watching me closely. Watching the confusion that’s starting to suffocate me. The vulnerability. This isn’t supposed to be me. I’m the one who sits, watching across the table, while someone tells me their deepest, darkest secrets.

“I never spoke to him about our relationship,” I say, forcing my breath to even out.

“Did he ever see you together?”