Page 51 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)

I stiffened. It was an involuntary reaction. Tessa was good. She’d done her homework. I played it cool, acted confused, and shook my head dismissively. "What do you mean?”

“Well, your Social Security number checks out. You’ve got a LinkedIn profile that hasn't been updated in a couple of years.

You have virtually zero social media presence, which is really odd.

Nothing from college or high school. And speaking of high school, I found your online yearbook.

Your picture is in there, but when I started talking to some of your classmates, nobody remembers you. "

"I was not popular in high school,” I said. “I was a late bloomer.”

“According to your records, you got a scholarship to Vanden. Majored in computer science. That was easy enough to check out. I talked to the professors, TAs, and a few classmates. Again, nobody remembers you.”

“I guess I’m just forgettable. ”

Tessa scoffed. "You’re anything but forgettable.”

"It just goes to show you other people don't care about you as much as you think they do. My message is to always be yourself and live your life.”

"That's great, but it's not the truth. Who are you really?”

The rest of the camera crews waited with bated breath, hanging on Tessa’s every word, hoping I’d drop some bombshell answer.

"I was born Savannah Stone. I'll always be Savannah Stone. If you haven't been keeping up with current events, I'm suffering from a bit of amnesia after a head injury. Clearly, you know more about me than I do."

I nodded to Tyson, and we continued on, plowing through the camera crews to the parking lot. They all followed behind, showing no sign of letting up.

We hopped into the Porsche, and Tyson fired up the engine. He put it into gear and backed out of the space, making sure not to run over any of the vultures. Then we headed across the island to Grayson's house. Tyson made sure we weren’t followed. He had a heavy foot, and the guy knew how to drive.

“If I’m not Savannah Stone, who am I?”

"I knew you as Savannah Sinclair. I figured the whole Stone thing was a cover ID.

You grew up in Austin, went to school at the University of Texas, majored in political science, joined Army intelligence, did a tour in Afghanistan, then you were recruited by the CIA.

At least, that's what you told me, and what my intel said, but that all could have been bullshit. ”

"Did I strike you as the type of person who would lie to you?”

Tyson laughed. "We're in the intelligence business. The truth is flexible.” He paused for a minute. "But I like to think that we had a deeper understanding of one another.”

"How deep?”

“Are we really going to do this now?" he asked.

"Do what?”

“Talk about something that happened a long time ago. So long that it probably doesn't matter now."

"I think it matters a lot. You came the minute I called. Without hesitation. You flew back from Europe and put your life on hold. It seems there was something pretty significant between us. I’d like to know what I was to you. I think I deserve that.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his eyes scanning the mirrors, making sure no one had followed us.

I got the impression this wasn't easy for him to talk about.

"You disappeared. Went dark. I figured, okay, that's normal.

That happens in this business. But you never came up for air.

I never heard another word from you. I didn't know if you were alive or dead. I figured the worst.”

"With your intelligence contacts, you could have found me.”

"It’s not like I didn’t try. I had the best people in the business looking for you.

It was dead end after dead end.” He paused, and his lips tightened.

“It's the not knowing. Imagination is always the worst. I could have dealt with it if I knew you were dead, or just didn't want to talk to me. But you walked away. No warning. No clues. Nothing left behind.”

“You’re mad,” I said.

“I wasn’t thrilled at the time.”

“You’re still mad.”

“How would you feel?”

I felt guilty listening to the story. The sorrow was evident in his eyes.

I didn't need to press any further. I could hear it in his voice. There was a time when this man loved me. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who used the L word lightly.

And I just walked away. I must have been a fool. Out of my mind.

Or afraid.