Page 16 of Shattered Truth (Off The Grid: FBI #15)

Chapter Nine

The storage unit was cramped and dusty, filled with the remnants of her brother's life.

She'd never put anything else in there. In fact, she'd never even opened the door in the past five years.

But now, she had to go back in time. She grabbed the large box while Matt pulled the two smaller ones out, and they took them upstairs, setting them on the floor by her coffee table.

"These are dusty," Matt commented.

"I haven't opened them since I put them in there a few weeks after I moved here, which was about ten months after Landon died. I'm kind of afraid to look in them now, but I know I have to."

"You have a few more minutes," Matt said as he glanced at his phone. "The pizza is here. I'll run down and get it. We'll eat and then tackle the boxes."

She was relieved by the delay. "Sounds good."

After he left, she cleared her files off the dining table, then got plates and napkins from the kitchen.

She had just grabbed the bottle of wine and their glasses from the coffee table when Matt knocked on the door a moment later.

She checked the peephole just to be sure, then let him in.

The delicious aroma of garlic and onions followed him through the door, and she realized she hadn't eaten all day. "That smells good."

"It is good. One of my favorite places in Santa Monica."

She looked at the box. "Luigi's. I've never been there."

"Once you taste this pie, you'll want to order it again and again."

"You are very confident in your choices," she said dryly. "Even when it comes to pizza."

"Especially when it comes to pizza," he said as they sat down at the table.

She took a slice from each box, happy to eat, and Matt seemed to feel the same way. When she'd finished her third slice, she sipped her wine and said, "I feel better."

"Me, too."

She sat back in her chair. "We've been talking a lot about me, and I know next to nothing about you. What's your story, Agent Lawson?"

"I thought you researched me."

"I didn't have time to look that deeply, and you have no social media presence, so that didn't help."

"I don't like social media. I see no value in posting photos of my food or looking at other people's photos of their food."

"It's not always about food," she said with a smile. "It's about sharing your life."

"I'm an FBI agent. Being covert is part of my job."

"Sure. But we're working together, so I should know more about you. Where are you from? What was your childhood like? Do you have family?"

"I have a family. I was born in a small farming community in Central California called Millbrook. Population about 10,000. My dad was an agricultural inspector for the state, and my grandfather was the sheriff. My mother was a teacher, and my grandmother worked at the quilt store."

"Sounds like a beautiful family growing up in an idyllic place."

"It was great until I was nine years old.

That's when my father filed a complaint against the food-processing plant that employed sixty percent of the residents of Millbrook.

After that, our family was basically shunned by the locals.

No one would talk to us. Kids were beating me up in school.

My grandmother's quilt store was getting vandalized, and my grandfather had to go out and arrest people who hated his family.

My mother was furious with my dad for ruining everything. "

"But he was just doing his job, which was to protect food safety, right?"

"Exactly. He was being responsible. There were a lot of safety violations at the plant, and the company had been polluting the local rivers and streams. Even though people understood why my father did what he did, their lives got worse, and they needed someone to blame. That was him."

"They should have blamed their employer."

"The plant was shut down for almost a year.

Thirty percent of the population was gone within six months, including my family.

My parents separated. My mom moved to San Francisco.

My father took me to San Diego. My grandparents stayed in Millbrook another few years, but my grandmother's shop eventually shut down because she didn't have enough business.

Then they moved to San Diego to be near me and my dad.

By then, my parents were divorced, and I shuttled back and forth on a plane between them far too many times to count. "

"That's rough."

"It was what it was," he said with a shrug. "After a few years, they both remarried. My mother had another baby, a son. My father had twin girls with his new wife. So, the family got bigger but also further apart."

"How did you feel about it all?" she asked curiously. "You're giving me a lot of facts but not feelings."

"It didn't matter how I felt. They couldn't stay together, and I couldn't change that."

"It should have mattered how you felt."

"Well, it didn't. And that's that."

"Are you really that pragmatic?"

"I really am," he said.

"Okay, fine. What about your stepparents? Did you like them? Are you close to your half- siblings?"

"Not really. I'm eleven years older than my half-brother, who is twenty-three, and thirteen years older than my half-sisters, who are just turning twenty-one.

Frankly, after I got out of high school, I barely saw any of them.

Once I was eighteen, and it wasn't court mandated that I spend time with my parents, it was easy not to. "

Despite his matter-of-fact tone, she suspected his feelings about his family were more painful than he wanted to say, maybe even wanted to admit to himself.

But the picture he'd painted of a life lived between two families that were growing without him made her feel for the lonely little boy whose happy life had been completely upended by circumstances beyond his control.

"Anyway, that's my story," he finished. "I told you it wasn't that interesting."

"I think it's very interesting. You said your grandfather passed away. What about your grandmother."

"She died a few years before he did."

"I'm sorry. What did your grandfather think of you being an FBI agent?"

For the first time since he'd started talking about his family, a smile lifted the corner of his lips. "He used to rag on me for not being a cop, thinking the feds were better, but he was proud, and he set high standards. I always wanted to live up to them."

"Like opening a door for a woman."

He tipped his head. "Like that."

"He sounds like a great grandfather. Did you ever think about being a cop instead of an FBI agent?"

"No. I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do when I went to college.

I majored in business and accounting and went into finance after graduation.

I thought money meant security and stability, but three years in that field was three years too many.

It was dull, and I didn't feel like I was accomplishing anything.

But with my expertise in corporate accounting and knowing how to follow money, I was a good candidate for the FBI. "

"And you've worked with whistleblowers like your father. Having lived that experience as a family member, that must make it easier for you to understand the mindset, the fear of speaking truth to power."

"I do have a better understanding and appreciation for my father's bravery in telling the truth," he admitted. "I didn't always appreciate it, but time gave me perspective."

"It must have felt a little lonely to have one foot in your dad's world and another foot in your mom's world. Did you feel like a wishbone, each one trying to pull you in their direction?"

"Only in the beginning, when they were fighting to keep me.

After they moved on with their lives, it didn't feel like either one of them was trying to pull me in their direction.

Not that they didn't love me. They just had a lot of other people to love.

Anyway, I made peace with it all a long time ago. "

She wondered if that was true, or if he'd just buried his feelings so deep, he didn't think they were there anymore. "Making peace is not easy," she murmured.

"Did you do it with your parents?"

"Not completely. I still have anger for both of them. But what I have never been able to come close to making peace with is Landon's death."

"I'm beginning to understand why you feel so frustrated. I'm sorry the police and the school let you down."

"Julia Harper said the brass forced her and the other detective to shut it down. Otherwise, she would have kept going. She was the only one who listened to me, who heard me, who wanted to explore other options, but her hands were tied."

"I saw her name in the file. I'd like to talk to her."

"You should. I contacted her earlier today after I spoke to you. I hadn't talked to her in several years, but I knew she was a private investigator now, and I thought she might be able to help me figure out what Sabrina knew."

He straightened, a frown on his face. "This is an FBI investigation, Haley. I can't have a PI getting in the middle of it."

"She could be an asset, just like me. She was there six years ago, working in the police department. She's the only one who tried to help."

"I'll talk to her. But is it possible she was part of the cover-up and just didn't play it that way in front of you?"

Now, she was the one who was frowning. "I don't believe that. She genuinely cared about me and my brother. You just said you had a case shut down by the higher-ups, so why couldn't that have happened to Julia?"

"It could have, but I would prefer to keep the circle of information tight. From here on out, don't tell her anything without speaking to me first. Someone tried to run you off the road tonight. And I don’t want to trust anyone unless I've vetted them first."