Chapter 25 – Charlie

Tim, my bodyguard and driver of several years, taps his ear.

“He’s here, boss.”

“Send him in.”

We’re standing in the kitchen area of Thorne Enterprises’ HQ. Tim emptied out every last chef, leaving it strangely quiet – except for the bubbling over the sound of a forgotten saucepan of pasta.

It’s a strange place to meet – but it works perfectly.

This is the kind of meeting I don’t want on the record. I don’t want my guest caught on any CCTV cameras on the way in. I don’t want him signing for an entrance badge, nor do I want the prospect of a receptionist remembering him later on.

No, this way is better.

I hear footsteps from the corner, then watch as two burly men in ill-fitting suits – weapons strapped to their hips – lead a third man. He’s short, perhaps five foot seven, with scruffy black hair, tanned skin, and a salt-and-pepper beard.

“I’ll take it from here, boys,” Tim mutters. He holds his palm up, indicating for my guest to stop. The man does as he’s told, grimacing and holding his arms out, ready to be searched. Tim does the honors.

“He’s clean, boss,” Tim says as he finishes patting the scruffy-haired man down. “Want me to stay and –”

I shake my head. “Leave us, Tim. My guest and I will be fine, won’t we?”

Tim bites his lip before he says something he shouldn’t. I watch as his muscles twitch – his body fighting with the natural urge to disagree – before he acquiesces. He nods and departs.

“So,” I say. My voice sounds strangely quiet in the empty industrial kitchen.

My guest says nothing.

“You have a name?”

The mysterious guest holds his tongue long enough for me to wonder whether there was any point bringing him here at all. Finally, he breaks his silence.

“Jason.”

“Is that your real name?”

No answer.

I don’t suppose I’ll get a surname, and I don’t particularly care to ask. One of the more disagreeable aspects, of running a multibillion dollar corporation, are moments like this.

“You know why you’re here, Jason?”

No movement.

“I’ll do the talking, then,” I smile. “I understand Harper hired you to follow a young lady.”

“Your wife,” Jason finally grunts. He says the words without judgment – with almost complete disinterest. I guess if you’re a PI, or a corporate spy; meetings like this quickly become old news.

I incline my head in agreement: “My wife.”

Jason shrugs.

The cloth of his nondescript navy blue canvas jacket tugs against his body as he does so – revealing that despite his slight height, he has a more than muscular frame. The man radiates danger. I’m not surprised Tim didn’t want to leave me alone with him.

“Tell me what you found,” I say.

Jason doesn’t hesitate this time. “She’s got a father, late fifties, in the hospital. She was homeless for a bit. I spoke to a few people who knew her on the street –”

I feel like I might stumble at any moment. I pinch the bridge of my nose, and my forehead knits together. The idea that Penny – my Penny – could once have lived on the streets is shocking.

“Wait,” I say. “Her father: what’s wrong with him?”

Jason’s eyes flicker, almost as though he’s reading from an imaginary notebook. They go glassy for a second, and then he returns to life. I idly wonder whether he has a photographic memory.

“Brain tumor: operable, but not on his insurance.”

“She never mentioned,” I whisper.

Hell, I guess there was a lot Penny never told me about. Still, it hurts that a woman I allowed to get so close to me could hide something so terrible from me.

“That’s because you were her mark,” Jason says.

I’ve suspected this for a while, but to hear it directly from Jason’s lips, cold and impassionate, still hurts.

“Walk me through it. Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“We found the evidence on the housemate’s phone. They searched through a dozen different targets before settling on you. I guess she did it to pay for her dad’s treatment. Who knows? I can’t figure out why she married you, though. That bit doesn’t make sense.”

“It was never part of the plan,” I mutter.

The floor feels unsteady beneath me.

“Should I go?” Jason asks. He doesn’t try and comfort me – and to be honest – I appreciate it.

“Yes.” I mutter. I don’t much feel like talking.

“Jason, wait.”

I catch the private spy just before he turns the corner and leaves the kitchen for good. I have a sense that I might never see him again. I don’t know why I stop him – just a vague feeling that there must be something more. That Penny couldn’t have tricked me so easily.

“Was there anything else?”

Jason cocks his head, and his eyelids narrow – just a touch. From the look in his eyes, I wonder if he’s planning on holding something back from me.

He chews his lip; then seems to decide that whatever happens, it doesn’t matter a whole lot to him. “She was being followed.”

My head snaps in Jason’s direction. Any sense that my world’s falling apart flares, then dies away. Suddenly I feel like the old me – a predator on the hunt. This is the jigsaw piece that doesn’t fit. There’s no reason for Penny to have been followed, not unless something bigger lurks underneath the surface…

“Did she know?”

The spy shakes his head. “The guy was good; very good. He thought I didn’t spot him, but I don’t make mistakes.”

He pauses. “Will that be all?”

My mind whirls.

Suddenly the different parts of the puzzle start to fall into place. I haven’t got the whole picture – it’s like looking at abstract art through fog – but I’ve got enough. I’ve got enough to know that I want answers – and I want them from Penny herself.

“No,” I growl. “I’ll double your fee. Go find my wife.”