Page 38 of The Wolves Come at Night

“I will deal with Taylor Jackson.”

“No. I am going back to Nashville. I want to search for my daughter.”

“If there was a sighting of your daughter in New Haven, you would of course go home immediately. I will arrange it. And you will be safer there with Santiago and Alan.”

“You’re going to manipulate a police investigation? Is that wise?”

Angelie forced a smile. “Go home, Dr. Conway. We will get her back for you.”

Avery stood tall and still. Her eyes were hooded, strong emotion coursing through them. Finally, she nodded once, tersely. “Just find my daughter. Please. For Richard’s sake.”

The woman’s eyes were hooded. “I will. I promise.”

Santiago and Angelie spoke briefly again before he hustled Avery back to New Haven.

“Game is taunting you.”

“Oui. It does not matter. I have a chance to right a wrong.”

“You can’t go after the cop.”

“I can. And I will. She is the key to all of this. She is why Game has come for me now. Why he took Carson from school instead of from home. He knows I will come running to Nashville and try to address things. I will use that to my advantage. Two birds, one rock.”

“One stone. Two birds, one stone.”

She laughed and kissed him swiftly, on both cheeks. “Take care of her. And trust me. I will make this right.”

“Do you want Alan to meet you? Or me?”

“I have a few things that need my attention first. I’ll call if I need you. But Captain Jackson is good at killing, too. She will help.”

Santiago spit out a small laugh. “Like you’re going to turn the savior of Nashville into an assassin for us? Give me a break, Ange. She’s as pure as the driven snow.”

“She is not pure. Trust me. I will give her a nudge in the right direction. She might even find she likes it.”

This was a surprise; she could see the flicker of disbelief in his eyes.

“Just be careful, all right? Don’t burn down the city to make a point, okay?”

“Moi? Non, mon chéri. I would not dream of it.”

Nineteen

New Haven, Connecticut

Avery was torn between anger and terror during the trip back to New Haven, sitting in confused silence next to Santiago on the private jet his “friend” offered.

Santi, though, had talked most of the time, nonsense, really, telling stories about the “unit”—himself, Alan, Richard, Angelie, and Joseph Game. He spoke of the early days when things were hopping worldwide and they were in an almost constant rotation, until she finally snapped.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe Richard was a part of this. He was never gone from home. He raised the children while I worked. You’re trying to tell me he was a part of these exploits? Give me a break, Santi.”

“He was. He was our SIGINT—signal intelligence—as well as the lead SysOps—systems operator. He gathered all the data and planned all of our operations. He didn’t have to be on the ground, he was with us virtually. And he did all the paper—passports, IDs, backstopping legends, the works. He was an incredibly talented forger.”

“My husband. My Richard. Was a forger? These fairy tales you tell, Santi. How in the world am I supposed to believe you?”

Santi shrugged. “Believe me or don’t. I’m telling you the truth. Alan will tell you the same.”

She thought about it. According to Santiago, Richard had been lying to her practically their whole life together.