"I suppose, but…" He paused, thinking this restaurant was really nothing like any home he'd actually lived in.
"But," she pressed.
"I did not grow up in a house like this, so it does not remind me of home."
"Where did you grow up?" she asked curiously. "We've been talking so much about me and my family and my relationship with Noelle, I know very little about you, except that you were a Marine."
"There's no big story," he murmured, wishing he hadn't opened that door.
"Come on, give me a few details." She rested her forearms on the table, leaning forward with curiosity in her sparkling, gold-flecked brown eyes. She was looking for a distraction, and he was it.
"What do you want to know?" he asked warily.
"Are your parents alive? Where do they live? Where did you grow up? Are you from California or somewhere else?"
He inwardly flinched at the barrage of questions, knowing he should have expected them at some point, because clearly Avery had a mind that was wired to want to know everything. He decided to stick as close to the truth as possible, while, of course, leaving out big chunks of the story.
"My parents are alive. I grew up in New York. I have an older brother. What else?"
"What else?" she echoed. "That's barely more than I'd see on your driver's license."
He waved his hand around the warm, happy, colorful restaurant. "See all this? Well, the house I grew up in was nothing like this. It was professionally decorated, filled with expensive, luxury furniture, paintings, and art, but there was no personality."
"Interesting. Much like your current apartment, which is not professionally decorated but still has no personality," she said with a bit of sarcasm.
He grinned. "Maybe that's why I'm comfortable there; it feels familiar in an opposite sort of way."
"Why was your parents' home so sterile? What are they like? What's your relationship with them?"
He waited to answer until Katerina had dropped off their margaritas. Then he said, "My parents entertained a lot, for both my father's work, and also because they had a country club lifestyle. Our home wasn't supposed to reflect a normal, messy family life, it was a stage for events. As for my relationship with them—it was good enough for a long time, and then it was really bad."
"Well, that's about as cryptic an answer as anyone could give," she said, sipping her drink. "Talking to you is like playing twenty questions. Why so reserved, Wyatt?"
"I'm a private person."
"Well, you're not making a public speech; you're just talking to me. And I've been pretty honest with you."
"That was your choice."
"What made things go from good enough to really bad?" she pressed.
Now they were getting into territory he never talked about. On the other hand, what he had to say would probably not affect his cover in any way, so what did it matter?
It mattered, because then she'd know more about him than most people did. That could make him vulnerable. And he never put himself in that position.
"You're having quite a long argument with yourself," Avery said, a perceptive gleam in her eyes. "Are we back to everyone has a secret, especially you?"
"We are back to that." He sipped his drink and then said, "I thought my parents were average, a little snobby, a little highhanded, maybe, but I grew up with money. It was all I knew. We had a nice house in a neighborhood where everyone had a beautiful home. My dad played golf. My mom played tennis. They had parties every weekend, and they were very popular. My father could charm anyone."
"Sounds like my dad," she muttered. "Go on."
He ran his finger around the base of his margarita glass as he neared the edge of a personal cliff. What the hell—he might as well jump. It was too late to backtrack now.
"My father had a big secret. He was a financial wizard, someone everyone trusted, but they shouldn't have. He moved money around, played games, borrowed from Peter to pay Paul. He was always looking to score, get a huge payout, and he often got it—until he didn't. Then his house of cards started to fall apart. He not only lost a lot of money, everyone came after him, the SEC, the banks, it was a colossal mess. The worst thing was that by the time that happened, my brother was already working for him, and he went down, too. My family lost everything. My mom was ostracized from her friends. My brother had to defend himself in court for so long that his wife left him, taking their baby with her."
"I'm so sorry," she said with concern in her eye. "And you? How did you fare?"
"I was the youngest. I was the least involved in anything, so I walked away from it all. I took myself out of the spotlight, away from the press, the accusations, the trials. I distanced myself from everything and everyone."
She stared back at him. "That sounds lonely, Wyatt."
He shrugged. "It wasn't like the kids I grew up with wanted to be friends anymore. A few did, but their parents immediately squashed that. It didn't matter. It was time to move on. The life I had led was gone. I had to accept it."
"So, you joined the Marines."
"I knew I had to change my life," he said, playing with the truth.
"What happened to your mom and dad and your brother?"
"My father went to jail. My mom divorced my father and moved in with her sister but recently remarried. My brother served some time but got out last year. He changed his name and started over. He has some contact with his daughter, but he missed out on some very formative years. I don't think he will ever live the life he imagined or planned for."
"That's terrible. And that's why you said earlier that you'd seen people plan for futures they never got. I thought you were talking about friends who lost their lives, but you were talking about your family."
"I was talking about both," he admitted.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been incredibly painful, especially you seemed to end up on the outside of the circle."
"The circle broke. We were like a chain of beads that fell off a string and scattered to different corners."
"And you don't talk to anyone anymore?"
"I don't. We all had to find a way to make our lives work, and we couldn't do that together."
"I don't see why you couldn't, but I suspect there is more you haven't told me."
"I've told you enough. Anyway, my life is what it is. I don't look back. I don't worry about tomorrow. I just live."
She nodded, then let out a sigh. "I get it, but I am the complete opposite. I look back, I look ahead, and I look sideways. I don't know how to stop planning and trying to control things I can't control."
"That must be exhausting."
"So tiring," she agreed. "I wish I didn't worry everything to death. I know it doesn't affect anything, but I just don’t know how to stop. However, if I've learned anything over the past two days, it's that any belief I have that I'm in control is just an illusion."
He was impressed by her self-deprecating honesty. He didn't know if Avery was always so forthcoming or if the stress of Noelle's death had put her over the edge, but he had to admit he liked talking to her. She was a good listener, and she didn’t judge. It had felt surprisingly good to tell her about his parents, and that wasn't a subject he shared with just anyone. But instinctively he knew he could trust her with the information.
"Thank you for telling me about your family, Wyatt," she added. "I'm beginning to understand why you have so many walls up. I also have a feeling that if I looked you up on the internet, I wouldn't find anything about you. You said your brother changed his name and started over. Did you do the same?"
Avery's brain certainly worked at an incredible speed. She put facts together and read between lines more quickly than most anyone he'd met. He decided to give her a truthful answer. "Yes, I did."
She raised a brow. "Wow. I wasn't sure you'd admit to that. Are you going to tell me your real name?"
"No."
"Okay then." She sat back in her seat. "I guess I pushed one button too man
y."
"The person I was doesn't exist anymore." He hoped she had enough on her plate right now to prevent her from looking for more information. Although, if she did, she wouldn't find anything. He'd buried his past more deeply than she could ever dig up, even if she did put parts of his story together. But considering how many other issues were occupying her brain right now, he didn't think it would be a problem. By the time she got back to thinking about who he was, he'd probably be gone.
He took a long drink, that sobering thought annoying him more than it should have.
"I can relate to part of your story," Avery continued. "My dad didn't go to jail, but I think he's a bit of a con artist. He wouldn't admit to that, but his moral code is built on shifting sand. He makes people believe he holds the secret to the perfect life, and they pay him large sums of money to hear him spout quotes made famous by other people. I guess none of it is technically illegal, but it always feels a little wrong to me." She cleared her throat. "My dad thinks my mother poisoned me against him, but she didn't. I was there. I lived with him until I was fourteen. I saw who he was then, and I see who he is now. He's charming and funny, and he's someone who can become whoever you want him to be, but only for a little while. If you look at him too hard or stay too long, you realize he has no more substance than a puff of smoke. I just wish…" Her voice fell away.
"Wish what?" he asked curiously.
"That I didn't love him so much," she confessed. "Even with all the disappointments, I still remember the good times. My dad was fun. When I would hang out with him, it was like being with the most entertaining person you could meet. We would do crazy things. We once hopped a fence and went swimming at a pool in a gated community after midnight, because it was hot, and our air conditioning wasn't working. Being with him was an adventure."
He could hear the love and the conflict in her voice. "But you felt that you were betraying your mom when you liked being with him."
"Especially in the year right before they divorced and immediately afterward. Of course, as the years passed, and my dad let me down numerous times, those adventures became a distant memory."
"But you're not distant anymore."
"I know. And it feels weird that he's back in my life again."
"How does your mother feel about it?"
"She hates it. But, fortunately, she has someone new in her life, too. Don is a great guy. He's taking her to Hawaii tomorrow, which I am really grateful about now that there is so much going on."
He was glad her mother was leaving, too. Anyone connected to Avery could be used as a bargaining chip, and while her dad had security because of his celebrity and his relationship with the Tremaines, he doubted her mother had any protection.
"Oh, wow," Avery said, as Katerina set down their burritos. "You weren't kidding. These are huge. But I think I'm up to the challenge."
He smiled. "Me, too."
She picked up her fork, then hesitated. "There's something I should have said earlier, Wyatt."
"What's that?"
"Thank you. You saved my life this morning. You've been by my side every second since then, even when that meant sitting through a sob fest at a mortuary. I know you'll say it's part of your job, but I think you're going above and beyond."
"You're welcome. Now eat."
"You don't have to say that twice."
* * *
Avery dug into the delicious flavors of her spicy burrito stuffed with chicken, rice, beans, onions, salsa, and topped with guacamole and sour cream. Wyatt was right; it was probably the best burrito she'd ever had. And Wyatt was surprisingly easy to have dinner with.
He'd started out the day as a mysterious and somewhat alarming stranger. But now he felt more like a friend. She was happy he'd opened up about his family. His dad and her dad shared some bad traits in common, and for some reason that made her feel closer to Wyatt. She'd read between the lines of his story and had seen the loneliness and disappointment in his eyes as he talked about the decimation of his family. She'd felt similar emotions, even though their situations had been different.
She'd also isolated herself a bit, diving into her studies with perhaps more intensity than she might have if she hadn't been so shattered by her parents' divorce. Wyatt had done the same and taken it to another level by changing his name.
As she ate, she teased him with suggestions of what his name might really be, enjoying a conversation that for a brief moment in time felt almost normal.
Wyatt, of course, did not confess to his true identity, although he'd told her she was getting closer when she'd suggested his real name was George. She doubted that was true, seeing the gleam in his brown eyes, but it amused her to think of him as a George.
The staid, formal, somewhat old-fashioned name didn't suit him at all. He really felt more like a Wyatt—a man of action, intensity, purpose, and fearless courage. She felt safe with him.
But there were other feelings, too, and those she should probably set aside for another day—a day far away from now.
As she managed to get down the last bite of her burrito, her phone rang. "It's my mom," she said. "I need to take this."
"Go ahead. I'm going to pay the bill, give you some privacy. Don't go outside without me."
She frowned at the warning reminder but was glad when he moved over to the counter to speak to Magdalena.
"Hi, Mom. How are you?"
"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. I just saw some disturbing news on the TV. There was a fire in Venice Beach at Noelle's apartment."
"Yes, I heard about that, too."
"What happened? Why would someone burn down Noelle's apartment? What was she involved in?"
"I really don't know, Mom."
"This is getting worse and worse. I just told Don I think I should skip the trip."
"You are absolutely not going to do that."
"I'm worried about you, Avery."
"You don't need to be. I'm okay."
"You'd say that even if you weren't."
"But I am all right," she reiterated. She really needed her mother to go to Hawaii, so she didn't have to worry about her.
"Are you at home? Maybe I should come by and we can talk. Or you can come here?"
"I'm actually out with someone."
"You're out? With who?"
"A friend from work," she said vaguely. "I'm not alone. And I really want you to go on your trip and have a good time. There's nothing for you to do here."
"What about the funeral arrangements?"
"I spent some time at the mortuary with Kari today. Nothing is going to happen immediately. In the end, we'll probably just have a very small service or some kind of memorial celebration."
"How is Kari holding up?"
"Not very well. She spent a lot of time crying today. She also said that she doesn't have enough money to pay for anything."
"Of course she doesn't," her mother said, an edge to her voice. "Kari never saved a dime and lived beyond her means. Now she wants you to pay, doesn't she?"
"I said I'd contribute; so did Noelle's boyfriend."
"Well, you know I'll help. I didn't like Kari, but I liked Noelle very much. She was like a second daughter to me."
"I know she felt that way about you, too. Anyway, you and Don have fun, take pictures."
"If anything happens, Avery, promise you'll call me. I don't care how small or unimportant you think it is."
"Don't worry," she said, deliberately avoiding that promise. "It's all going to be fine."
"I really hope so."
"Everything all right?" Wyatt asked, as he returned to the table.
She slipped her phone into her bag. "My mom heard about the fire, but I convinced her to go to Hawaii tomorrow anyway."
"Good. Then neither of you will have to worry about the other."
"Exactly." She got to her feet. "Shall we go?"
As they walked outside, she couldn't help noticing the change in Wyatt's demeanor. He'd gone from relaxed and easy to h
ypervigilant, keeping his hand on her arm, his gaze darting in every direction, sweeping the street for any sign of danger.
After they got in the car and Wyatt pulled out of the parking spot, she asked, "How long are we going to do this?"
"It's a short drive to the hotel."
"I don't mean that. I mean this—you and me, hiding out. I have a dinner tomorrow. I have to go to work on Monday. I have a life."
"And I want you to keep living that life, which means you're going to have to bear with me a little longer."
"I just don't know what's going to change that will suddenly make my life safer."
"The FBI could find the person who was at Noelle's apartment this morning. That would be a start. The investigation into the fire could also provide clues."
"Do you really think so?" she asked doubtfully.
"I don't know, but something will break. It always does."
"You've been involved in situations like this before?"
"Not exactly like this, but I've worked in security and intelligence long enough to know that the clues will come as long as we keep looking."
"Okay, but we're not exactly doing anything proactive at the moment."
"We took a short break. We'll get back to it."
"Do you have a specific plan in mind?" she asked, not seeing any possible way for them to figure out what happened to Noelle. "We're not the police or the FBI. What can we do on our own?"
"We can focus on the personal. You knew Noelle better than anyone."
"But she didn't tell me anything."
"Maybe you just don’t remember. It could have been something that sounded like nothing at the time, but in retrospect…"
"I've already been racking my brain wondering if I missed some clue, but I don't think so. Since Noelle started working at Nova Star, we saw each other fairly often. We had lunch at least twice a week. We went out a few times on the weekends, saw a couple of movies, went to brunch with some old high school friends…" She shrugged. "Nothing stands out."
"These old high school friends—who were they?"
"Jenny Fordham and Lindsay Swanson. Lindsay is getting married, so we went out to toast her engagement."
Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3) Page 10
