Page 21 of The Love Thief
CHAPTER FOURTEEN OMG, the Fucking FBI!
After my shower, I sat down to check WhatsApp and found a voice message from Mom.
“Holly, Auntie and I need to set up a time to talk. Don’t worry, but we need to talk to you about the FBI agent who came by the office looking for you.
He wouldn’t give us any details except to say he has an active investigation and that you may have been a witness to a crime and he needs to interview you.
Please don’t worry, just let me know when you can get on a call with us. I love you.”
Just seeing Mom’s face made me want to cry.
I hadn’t realized how homesick I was and how much I missed her!
I could see she was sitting up in bed, her biggest reading glasses perched on her nose, and her hair was her usual wild morning bedhead mess.
And, for a second, I swear I could smell her grapefruit-scented body lotion.
Mom didn’t have much more information than what she’d said in her original message. She said she had told the agent I was “out of the country,” on an extended trip but nothing more than that.
He had asked for more details, but Mom smartly didn’t tell him a thing so he had asked her to please contact me, and ask if I would be willing to get on a call with him. He insisted I was not in any trouble, but that I may have pertinent information for an international case he was working on.
“Did you see his badge?” I asked cautiously. A string of bile inched up my throat.
“Yes,” Mom said quietly. “He said his name is Special Agent Jackson Turner. In his forties, average height, all-American-looking, very polite, thinning light brown hair, dressed in beige khakis and a blue button-down oxford shirt.” I marveled at Mom’s observation skills when it suddenly hit me who I’d inherited my skills from.
“Is it possible you captured an image of him on Auntie’s security system?” I asked.
“Most likely. Once I get to the office, I’ll find out and send you what I have.”
“Thanks.” I exhaled, grateful she didn’t ask why I wanted the picture. “I don’t see any reason why not to talk to him. Unless Auntie thinks it’s a bad idea.”
“I will ask her and let you know.” Mom’s voice sounded full of worry.
We spoke for a while longer. I told her about my adventures and how much I loved cooking school. Neither of us mentioned Barry.
As soon as we disconnected, my hand automatically went to text Carly and tell her about the FBI development.
Then I remembered Carly was no longer in my life and I felt a confusing wave of sadness.
I was shocked to discover that there was still a part of me that missed her.
This woman who had betrayed me so greatly had been my sister for more than twenty years.
Now I had this gaping hole in me that was sad, angry, and feeling all alone in the world.
As my BFF and then business partner, Carly was my “go-to person,” as they say. While I had many casual friends, no one came close to having the depth of my connection to Carly.
After my near-fatal car accident and hospitalization, many of my friends had reached out to me, but because I could neither open my mouth to physically speak nor type with my broken wrist, it was nearly impossible to respond to them.
Before I left for India, I sent out a group email explaining why they hadn’t heard from me and gave them a progress report.
It was just hitting me now that I really didn’t have anyone I could confide in with details of my life that were so scary to me now.
As I fell asleep, I heard a voice in my head say, “Ask Ma Ganga to send you a new best friend.”
As soon as I woke up the next morning, I checked my messages and found one from Mom that simply said, “Here’s a fuzzy image of the FBI agent.”
I opened up the file and there he was: the mystery man I had seen in Budapest, the one I mistook for someone familiar!
I wrote to Mom and said I would certainly talk with him.
I had nothing to hide. I hadn’t done anything wrong and was curious about what he wanted from me.
I asked her to give him all my contact info and to let him know he should contact me as soon as possible.