“Oh no.” Jade turned on her side to face Langston. “Did she say who your biological parents really were?”
The names tumbled out of Langston’s mouth. “William and Eve Wiseman.”
Jade laughed uncomfortably. “What?”
“I’m William Wiseman’s son.”
She sat up and studied him, a smile playing on her lips like she was waiting for the punch line.
“I kind of look like him, don’t I?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But a lot of people look like other people. That doesn’t mean they’re related. You know those kids died, right?”
“He and his wife had a son named Langston, and he would be my age right now.”
“Coincidence.”
“Not coincidence. I’m him.”
Jade slid down until she was flat on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “This is going to take me a while to wrap my head around.”
He couldn’t blame her. He was still trying to adjust himself. Aren’t journalists supposed to confirm the facts? The cloud shadows morphed into new shapes and played along the walls. Did they deliberately misguide the public? Did they truly have evidence that the other Wiseman children had died? Or were they alive too?
Langston worried whether or not Agent Roswell would tell him anything. If his brother and sisters were alive, he had to know. It seemed that this man was the key to everything. Agent Roswell could be the missing link to bring the entire Wiseman family—what was left of it—back together.
Langston sat in J.T.’s den, anxiously waiting for him to finish a phone call in the next room. They’d just finished an hour-long meeting and Langston was ready to go. He tried to get comfortable on the overstuffed leather sofa, but every time he moved, he inadvertently slid a few inches back, leaving his legs dangling over the edge.
Who makes furniture this big? he thought, scooting forward until he felt the carpet underneath his feet.
Nate peered at him from a doorway, a toothpick dangling from his bottom lip. It didn’t matter where Nate was. He made every place feel creepy. He was a chronic lurker. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sitting, Nate. What does it look like?”
“You better watch that smart mouth.”
Over time, Langston had come to realize that, while Nate was very much capable of bodily harm and property damage, he was usually more bark than bite.
“Do you live here?” Langston asked. “You never seem to leave.”
“You know damn well I don’t live here.”
“How would I possibly know that? You are always here.”
“Just shut up and sit there.”
Langston lifted his hands, sliding backward again. “Fine… fine.”
Nate continued to watch him, rotating the toothpick in his mouth with his tongue. Today, Nate’s tank top color of choice was black, a stark contrast against his pale white, ropy arms. His gelled and spiked hair framed his face like sunshine rays in a child’s drawing. Langston snickered.
The toothpick stilled. “What’s funny, dickhead?”
“Nothing. Why are you staring at me?”
“Because I can.”
“Because he can,” Langston said to himself. “Clever.”
Nate pushed off the wall and took a step toward him. J.T.’s hand on his shoulder stopped Nate from coming any closer.
“Well, well, well.” J.T. took a pull on his cigarette. “You boys ain’t sparring, are you?”
“Not at all,” Langston said.
Nate shook his head, walked across the room, and found a new lurking spot near the entrance.
J.T. sat in front of Langston. “Where were we?”
“You were saying the client liked my BDA suit.”
“Oh yeah. He went crazy over that thing.” J.T. crossed his legs and Langston saw the gun holster around his waist. “The money should transfer into your account sometime today.”
Langston nodded. “I’ve done my three jobs now. That’s what the contract asked for. Are we done?”
J.T. gave him a Cheshire Cat grin, that damned gold tooth winking in the warm lamplight. “Now, Langston. All those greenbacks I afforded you? That’s a permanent retainer fee, my friend. Consider yourself a standby consultant.”
Langston bit his tongue, fighting the urge to insist he was absolutely, categorically done with this business. J.T. stood up and extended his hand. Langston reluctantly followed suit and shook it.
“Take care,” J.T. said.
“Right. Thanks.”
J.T. pulled his ringing cell phone out of his shirt pocket, and Langston took that as his cue to leave. Nate sucked his teeth loudly when Langston got to the door.
“Nate.”
“Langston.”
As Langston made the short walk down the street to his car, he felt cautiously optimistic about his newfound freedom, no matter how temporary it may be. As much as he’d hated being a part of J.T.’s underground network, he did have to admit he’d accrued a healthy savings account.
He leaned his head back and enjoyed the heat of the sun on his face, though the wind was brisk. He decided not to focus on J.T. anymore. It was the weekend and Langston had other matters to worry about.
When he got in the car, he looked at the new number he’d saved in his cell phone. He’d had Jake Roswell’s number for two days, but every time he tried to call he chickened out.
Just do it, Langston urged himself. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. He stared at the number so long that the screen faded to black and locked. Okay. I’m really going to do it. He unlocked the screen, closed his eyes and jabbed at the call button with his thumb. Eyes still closed, he put the phone to his ear, listening to it ring over his pounding heartbeat. He found himself hoping no one would answer so he could leave a voicemail.
“Hello?”
His eyes flew open. He hadn’t expected a woman to answer.
“Hello—hi… I’m… My name is Langston. Is Agent Roswell available?”
“I’m sorry, he’s out. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Yes. Will you please ask him to call me?” He gave his full name and telephone number. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“He’ll be back on Thursday.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
Langston put the phone in the passenger seat and rolled down the windows to let in some cool air. From now on, he knew every time the phone rang, his heart would leap to his throat and he’d wonder if it would be Agent Roswell or J.T. He took a deep breath and started the engine.
Let the waiting game begin.
Chapter Sixteen
“Earth to Langston.” Jade waved her hands in front of his face.
He looked up from his half-eaten dinner. “Huh?”
“You can’t keep worrying about this. I know it’s hard, but it’s Valentine’s! And I bought this dress just for you, and you haven’t said a thing about it.”
Langston had been waiting to hear from Agent Roswell for three weeks. He’d called back twice already, and the same lady had answered and said Agent Roswell was out and offered to take a message.
“You look beautiful.” He picked up his fork. “I get the feeling that Agent Roswell is avoiding me. He’s supposedly never there when I call, and he never calls me back.”
“I know. Maybe he’s super busy.”
“Yeah.” Langston pushed his asparagus around in a pool of hollandaise sauce. “It seems suspicious, don’t you think?”
“Give it some time.” Jade took a sip of tea. “Did I tell you Justine’s bringing Isabella this summer?”
“How much time do you think I should give it? Like another week?”
“Did you hear what I said? I’ll get to see my sister and niece.”
“That’s awesome.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started searching plane tickets. “I can pop over to Virginia for a weekend. Do you think it would be weird to just show up?”
“Okay.” Jade signaled the waiter for the check.
“What are you doing?”
“This is a waste of time. Let’s get out of here.”
“I’ll stop.” Langston put his phone away. “I’m sorry.”
Jade shook her head as the waiter put the check on the table. “I’ve been trying to have a decent conversation with you for weeks, and you keep talking about Agent Roswell. I’m trying to be sympathetic, but I’m not sure what to do here.” She wrapped a yellow and red pashmina shawl around her shoulders and picked up her purse. “I’ll be outside.”
Langston watched her walk out, feeling like an ass. Jade had been patient with him, listening to his every obsession over this ordeal. He paid the check and found her in the parking lot next to the car. He unlocked her door and opened it.
“Thanks,” she said, getting in.
Langston got in behind the wheel, but didn’t start the car. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to have a stroke if you don’t relax.”
“I know, but I need answers, Jade. This mark behind my ear, the telekinesis, the adoption… it’s driving me crazy.”
“And you’re taking me with you.”
He smiled. “I won’t be able to rest until I talk to him.”
Jade stared straight ahead, watching a car in front of them struggle to back into a space. “You’re going to Virginia, aren’t you?”
“I’ll only be gone for the weekend, I promise.”
When she looked at him, Langston could see the worry on her face. “This is scary, you just showing up at a stranger’s house.”
He took Jade’s hand. “I know, but I feel like I don’t have a choice. The only way to get to Agent Roswell is to catch him off guard. That way he won’t have a chance to avoid me.”
Jade’s shoulders drooped.
Langston started the car and pulled out of the lot. “Don’t you want me to know the truth about my family?”
“Yeah, but not by showing up at a man’s house you don’t know. He’s clearly avoiding you for a reason, and the last thing you need to do is antagonize someone who probably has a gun.”
That was probably true. “So what would you do?”
“I’d wait for him to call me back,” Jade said.
“You just said he was avoiding me. Why would he call me back if he doesn’t want to talk?”
Jade seemed to struggle with an answer. “I don’t know. Can’t you hack into his computer or something?”
Langston frowned. “I tried that already.”
“You did?” She seemed genuinely surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever hacked into my computer before?”
“Of course not!”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jade said. “You do it to everyone else.”
Langston sighed. “I haven’t hacked you, okay? Look, I’m just going to bite the bullet and go.”
“You do realize that you may literally bite the bullet, right?”
“He’s not going to shoot me, Jade.”
“How do you know that? Maybe that lady knows he’s crazy and hasn’t even been giving him the messages. Maybe she’s trying to protect you. Ever thought of that, smarty pants?”
“That’s more of a reason for me to go,” Langston said. “If she hasn’t been giving him the messages, then I’ll need to tell him myself.”
“What? No, that’s not what I said. Are you listening to me?”
“Think of it like this. If I can get my questions answered, then I won’t be obsessing about this all the time. If I’m not obsessing all the time, then you’ll have my undivided attention. Problem solved.”
Jade shook her head. “Not even.”
The car grew uncomfortably quiet. Langston turned on the radio.
“I don’t want you to think I’m being unsupportive,” she finally said. “But this is scary. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Can’t you at least take Everett with you?”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Yeah,” Langston said. “I’ll tell him. But right now, I want to do this on my own.”
“What’s your mom going to say?”
“She won’t know until I get back. And maybe not even then if I don’t find out anything.”
Jade took out her lip gloss from her purse. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
“Afraid not.”
“Okay, then.” She flipped down the visor with unnecessary force and looked into the mirror, applying the gloss. “Suit yourself.”
Langston’s plane landed late afternoon in Richmond. He picked up a rental car, set the GPS, and plugged his phone into the radio with a cable he’d brought. He scrolled through the podcast archives and hit play. The dulcet tones of NPR filled the car.
“Today we turn to people who know more than us. Prepare to be surprised at what they say. From WBEZ Chicago, it’s This American Life, distributed by Public Radio International. I’m Ira Glass. Stay with us.”
Langston’s concerns grew more acute as he drove. What if Jade was right and Agent Roswell turned out to be a trigger-happy retiree with nothing to do but clean his guns and use unwelcome visitors for target practice? What if no one came to the door and he had to go home with no answers? What if he did get answers and they were worse than he’d imagined? He pulled down the sun visor and spent the next forty minutes irritated because he’d forgotten his sunglasses.
The female voice of the GPS spoke. “In fifteen feet, turn right onto Cherrywood.”
He slowed, turning the steering wheel and biting his lip nervously.
“Your destination is on the left.”
Langston turned onto a long driveway, letting his foot hover over the brake as he looked through the heavily wooded area for any signs of a house. After rounding a curve, he saw a stately, grey colonial-style house with white shutters and a bright yellow front door, set far back on a large lawn. A silver sedan and a beige SUV sat in the semi-circle driveway in front of the house. Langston pulled in behind them.
He had a sudden urge to flee, but he yanked the keys out of the ignition, and looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Be cool.”
His legs felt like jelly as he walked to the door and pressed the doorbell. He cleared his throat and waited, his ears hypersensitive to every rustle of grass and every creak in the woods.
After what seemed like an hour, a woman opened the door. She was attractive and tall, wearing a peach short-sleeved sweater and tan slacks. Her amber hair was cut in a bob, and had several strands of silver. Her smile was kind, but cautious. “Yes?”
“Hi, my name is Langston. Does Jake Roswell live here?”
Her brown eyes darted to his car. “I’m sorry, how did you get this address?”
Langston recognized her voice from when he’d called. “A mutual friend,” he lied. His technological liberties were not up for discussion right now. “I’m sorry to just pop up, but I need to speak with him.”
“What is this regarding?”
“It’s private.”
“He’s not here.”
“Do you know when he’ll be in? It’s very important that I speak with him.”
She maintained her smile, but her eyes were resolute. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She started to close the door, but he planted his hand on it.
“Please. It won’t take too much time. I’ve come a long way and I’m only in town for—”
A shrill sound came from behind the woman. She looked over her shoulder as the sound got louder and closer. Langston stepped away from the doorway. A squealing child, about four years old, erupted from inside and gleefully jumped down each porch step. He started bouncing up and down in place beside the SUV, singing a song that involved a duck and a ladybug at the top of his lungs. Another voice came from the house.
“Michael! I told you to stop running!” A younger woman, maybe in her early forties, appeared, breathless and
carrying a smaller, quieter child. She kissed the older woman on the cheek. “Bye, Carmen.” She hiked the toddler higher on her hip, pulling a stroller behind her. “I’ll bring them by in the morning after I pick up…” She trailed off when she noticed Langston standing there. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Langston said.
“This young man is here to see your dad,” Carmen said. “I was just telling him Jake’s not here.”
“Yeah.” The young woman fussed with the stroller. It got stuck over the threshold and she jerked it to free the wheel. “I thought he’d slow down after retirement, but he’s as active as ever.” She started the laborious trek down the stairs with the child and stroller. Her cheeks were flushed and her dirty blond hair was unruly, the brown roots showing.
Langston stepped closer to her. “Do you need some help?”
His offer was drowned out by Michael’s incessant singing from the driveway.
“Michael!” she snapped. “Mommy has a headache!”
The child didn’t stop singing, but he dialed down the volume.
“Can I help you?” Langston repeated.
“What? Oh, no.” She kicked the stroller deftly, and it snapped closed. “I can do this in my sleep now. Thanks.”
A truck advertising outdoor rental furniture pulled in behind Langston.
Carmen walked down the stairs. “I’m sorry to be abrupt,” she said, still with that brittle smile. “But I’m going to have to ask that you go. We’re preparing for a party.”
She started toward the truck, running her fingers through her hair. Langston noticed she was sporting a large diamond ring.
“Is it possible for me to wait for him?” He called after her. “I won’t be in the way.”
Carmen looked back. “No. I’m sorry. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”
Yeah right, Langston thought. Just like you’ve been giving him my phone messages.
He walked down the porch stairs slowly, watching the young woman throw the stroller in the trunk of the SUV. She opened the back door and looked at Michael. “In. Now. We’re late.”
Michael climbed in. She bent to put the toddler in the car seat. When she propped her knee on the seat for balance, her sandal slipped off revealing a small, black crescent on her heel.
The Wiseman Revelation (The Wiseman Series Book 2) Page 14
