Page 24 of Shattered Truth (Off The Grid: FBI #15)

Chapter Fourteen

"Jason, what do you have? Did you find who broke into Haley's apartment?" He put the phone on speaker so Haley could hear the update. She was right in the middle of everything and could possibly help with any questions that might arise.

"Not yet. Derek is still working on that.

But we just got results back on the compound injected into Sabrina's body," Jason replied.

"It was a modified neurotoxin with two synthetic stabilizers not available in commercial production.

We matched one of the agents to a restricted chemical manufactured by a research-grade compounding lab in Pasadena. "

"And the buyer?" he asked, excitement running through him.

"We were able to match plates on a vehicle seen at the lab the day before Sabrina was shot with a vehicle seen exiting the park.

The car had fake plates, but we were able to get facial recognition on an ex-Army lieutenant, Gareth Pike, who was dishonorably discharged last year and now resides in Pasadena. "

"Do you have Pike in custody?"

"No. He's dead. Overdose—probably staged. No phone, no wallet, no computers at the scene."

He let out a heavy breath as disappointment ran through him. "Someone’s covering their tracks."

"It looks that way. Gareth Pike was a hothead and a drug addict. But he was a skilled marksman, and it's clear he was hired to do a job. We're digging into Pike's life, see if we can find a contract."

"Good. Now, didn't you say there's an event at your golf club tomorrow? Haley and I shook some of the Westbridge grads up today at the charity event, but we didn't meet with everyone. I'm especially interested in Drew Sanderson."

"Sanderson and his father, Kent, are playing in the tournament," Jason said. "Along with the Adlers."

"Can you get me in?"

"Of course."

He paused as Haley pointed to herself. Then he said, "I'd like to bring Haley as well. I need to keep an eye on her, and she makes our suspects uncomfortable. They have a more difficult time refusing to answer questions when she's there."

"I'll see you both tomorrow at two."

"See you then." He met Haley's gaze as he put down his phone. "We're making progress."

"The shooter is dead, so it doesn't feel like progress. I knew it was unlikely one of those rich guys would have actually shot Sabrina, but we've hit another wall, another dead body."

"It's almost impossible not to leave some kind of trail or a digital fingerprint on a job like this. It's usually buried under layers of encryption and secrecy, but my team is good, and they'll continue working as hard as they can to locate the employer."

"The Westbridge group has money and connections, Matt."

"True, but they're not invincible."

"I hope not."

"Are you hungry?"

"I…I don't know," she said with a helpless shrug. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, you don't have to think about it. I'll cook. You relax."

She gave him a questioning look. "You cook?"

"I'm not in line for a Michelin star, but I can throw something together. Why don't you settle in and take a few minutes to breathe? It's been a rough day. I know that finding your apartment in that condition was disturbing."

"It feels so personal now. It's weird. Someone tried to run me off the road last night, which was far more dangerous, but the way they went through my things…it really bothered me."

"Well, make yourself at home. You can watch TV, take a nap, a shower. Whatever. I'll get started on dinner."

"You're being very nice to me, considering it was only two days ago that you wanted to arrest me."

"Taking that phone was stupid and illegal. But I understand why you did it. We've moved past that."

"Yes, we have. Into a world that feels very topsy-turvy." She paused. "Thanks for taking me in. I think I will jump in the shower. It usually helps clear my head."

"Go for it. And your presence here will actually justify the money I spent on having a guest room because no one else has stayed there."

"Then, you're welcome," she said with a tired smile before heading into his apartment.

He couldn't stop himself from watching her every step of the way.

He'd never felt so personally connected to someone involved in an investigation.

He had always been able to separate his personal life from his professional one, but there was something about Haley that felt different, and he was a little concerned about the shift in his priorities.

He wasn't thinking as much about Sabrina's death and finding her killer as he was thinking about Landon, about helping Haley get the answers she'd spent six years searching for.

He told himself it didn't matter that the line was blurring, because the cases were connected, but deep down, he knew the line he was walking was getting thinner, and he could get to a point where he wouldn't be able to see a line at all.

But that point wasn't now, he reminded himself. All he had to do right now was make dinner.

Haley couldn't believe what Matt managed to whip up in an hour and a half. When she sat down at his dining room table a little after seven, she was surprised to see a restaurant-quality plate of food in front of her. "What is this? It looks amazing."

"Chicken thighs sautéed in garlic and ginger with rice and chili bok choy," he said, as he sat next to her and picked up a bottle of white wine. "Would you like a glass?"

"Yes," she said, immediately scooping up a bite of his chicken dish. The spicy flavors had a nice heat to them, and she quickly went back for more. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," he said as he filled her glass.

"Do you cook like this every night?"

"No. But when I have some time, I like to eat in. It's a nice change from grabbing food on the go."

"I would eat in more often if I could cook like this."

"This isn't difficult," he said with a smile that seemed to be warmer every time he flashed it at her. His hard exterior had definitely softened over the past few days.

"I'll take your word for it. Did your mom teach you to cook?"

"My father was the chef in our house, at least before the divorce.

His second wife cooked more than he did, and my mother never seemed interested in more than the basics.

Luckily, her second husband liked to cook, so she never had to get better.

What about your parents, before everything fell apart? "

"My mom would cook, but nothing that complicated. My dad would throw things on the grill. He knew his way around the barbecue, but not the stove or the oven."

"You haven't said much about him, beyond his death. Were you close?"

"I thought I was, but I was a kid. I had no idea what was going on in his head. I still don't, to be honest."

"I'm sorry," Matt said.

"I don't want you to be sorry for me. It doesn't make me feel better," she said candidly.

"How does it make you feel?"

"Ashamed."

"Why?" he asked with surprise. "You were a kid. You weren't responsible for the choices your parents made."

"I know, but after my dad's death, everywhere we went, people were whispering.

I'd go to school and kids would stop talking whenever I got close.

My mom felt it, too. Her friends didn't know what to say to her.

I think that drove her need to escape." She paused as she thought about the past. "My dad was free, but we were trapped under this dark cloud that never seemed to pass. "

"When did it get better?"

"Surprisingly enough, when we got to my great-aunt's house.

That's when I felt like I could see the sun again, or, at least, the possibility of sunshine.

It was kind of scary being away from my mother.

Even though she was unpredictable, we knew what we were getting with her.

We didn't know what we'd be getting with my great-aunt.

" She picked up her fork and took another bite, feeling a little of the tension ease now that they had moved on to happier memories in her life.

"You don't have to keep talking about this," Matt said. "Unless you want to. I'm happy to listen."

She smiled at that comment. "I didn't think you were going to be the greatest listener when we first met and you were barking questions at me."

"Hey, you ran away from the scene of a murder, and you stole the victim's phone. I didn't know what I was dealing with."

"Fair enough. Anyway, as I was saying, once it was just Landon and me living in my great-aunt's quiet, comfortable house, the world opened up.

Landon did well in high school, winning all kinds of merit awards and acing the SATs.

He got a full scholarship to Westbridge, and it felt like the future was going to be so much brighter. "

"It sounded like he was happy there for most of the time."

"I think he was the first three years and maybe even the first half of his senior year, but in retrospect, that Christmas he seemed more subdued than usual. I thought he was just stressed about school and getting perfect grades. But now I know there was more going on."

"Everything looks different in the rearview mirror."

"I suppose. I just wish Landon had gotten to have a future. It's so unfair. And I hate that I'm even saying that because I learned a long time ago that life isn't fair. But I don't get to escape. I don't get to take the easy way out."

"You're talking about your dad's suicide now?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just say what you're thinking."

"I've never really talked to anyone about it. I don't know why I'm talking to you."

"Because I'm a good listener," he said lightly, reminding her of what she'd just said.

"I had a lot of anger about my dad taking his own life.

Of course, it was mixed with horrific sadness, too.

But I was conflicted. It felt like he abandoned us.

And I didn't understand how anyone could do that to their family.

I could never do that. I could never leave the people I loved so unequipped for the future. Not if it was my choice."