Page 5 of Laura's Truth

“Strolling through the City Market like he’s on vacation.”

“That hardly narrows down the potential connections,” he said.

“Tell me about it.” She’d watched Garner for an hour this morning, but if he’d met with anyone, made any exchange, she hadn’t caught it. “No confirmed contact. No trail. No obvious observers, besides me.” That last one worried her though. Drew hadn’t picked up on her until she’d cornered him in the store, but something or someone had spooked him in the market.

“I’ll get Eva started and we’ll see what we can find using security cameras in the area.”

“When I get back to my hotel, I’ll go through the records again, look for what might have brought him here. Call me if you get anything.”

“You, too.”

“Of course.” Dropping the phone into her pocket, she felt more frustrated than ever. She’d taken a few vacation days to chase down what shouldn’t have been more than a rumor and she’d already lost the man. She was better than this—or had been during her days in the field.

“Those days weren’t so long ago,” she muttered to herself. She didn’t need the archived records, she’d committed Garner’s case and the circumstances of his death to memory.

Ross’s team had been the security force for Garner when they’d been attacked just outside of the village where Garner had been scheduled to meet his contact.

The ambush had felt like a set up, but there’d been no logical reason for it. While terrorists didn’t always need rational reasons, CIA agents typically did. As a counterintelligence officer, she’d worked closely with Ross on more than one occasion. When it came to Garner, there had been too many rumors to ignore. The man was a gas can looking for the right fire to turn into an inferno. She hadn’t trusted Garner then, though she’d never proven he was dirty. She had proof now—maybe. He couldn’t be here for the pleasant weather and he couldn’t be here on official business. Unless his fake death had been a gateway into another covert agency.

Doubtful. On paper and in person, Garner had embraced his CIA credentials. The agency had been his anchor, his sole pride and purpose in life.

Laura headed back toward the market. There was no point wandering around hoping to spot him. A determined operative as good as Garner could be on his way to the Bahamas by now.

She retraced her steps, aware and alert, her mind turning over the myriad possibilities that could’ve brought Garner to Charleston. There were sensitive military and defense department operations nearby, a few targets that would make terrorists drool. She couldn’t think of any political leaders in town that would have Garner risking this kind of exposure, but what did she really know about the man?

The question brought her up short and forced her to think. She paused at a gelato stand and ordered something, just so she’d have an excuse to stand still while her mind shifted into overdrive.

Why would a highly trained, highly intelligent man who loved his work fake his death? His record had been clean, although that didn’t mean much within a system where identities were scrubbed and altered to fit the job. If the ambush in Afghanistan had been a surprise to Garner, why disappear afterward instead of coming forward to clear his name?

Getting nowhere fast with so many unknowns, she let the cool, creamy treat melt on her tongue as she switched gears. What did she know about him as an individual?

She knew his instincts were spot on. He’d caught the scent of a tail before she could make her approach. He was light on his feet and quick to dodge out of sight. It had been the burst of sound from the wind chimes that tipped her off and led her to him.

His reflexes were sharp, which meant he hadn’t been lounging on a beach since his early demise. He’d thought of hitting her while she was down, she’d seen that in his eyes. Why pull the punch when he knew what she was capable of?

He might just as easily have killed her there on the floor. He should have killed her if he didn’t want his secrets or identity revealed.

Instead, he’d run.

That she was alive was the good news. He could’ve killed her and didn’t. Following that logic, it was a good guess Garner wasn’t in South Carolina to kill Ross or anyone else from that team. Bringing her right back to square one. What, or who, would bring a formerly dead spy to Charleston?

Laura sighed. So many questions…and not nearly enough facts to create even a loose outline of a working theory.

Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. The screen showed a blocked number. “Hello?” she said with a bright happiness—the polar opposite of how she really felt.

“Unitarian Churchyard. Come alone.”

The call dropped and she nearly laughed at the theatrics. As if she’d trusted anyone to join her on this unauthorized field trip. Her coworkers would’ve laughed at her. Aware of his inability to stay objective, Ross insisted on keeping himself and his team away from this situation. Garner didn’t seem to realize how alone she was out here. She would use that to her advantage.

Taking a last bite of the sweet gelato, she dumped the rest into the nearest trash bin. With her phone, she confirmed the location of the Unitarian Churchyard and zoomed in on the maps, reviewing the approach and escape options.

“Great,” she muttered as she started in that direction. Unless she wanted to scale a vine-covered wall, access to the cemetery was limited to the narrow side gate and the path to the church building. She wondered how much of his choice came down to convenience and how much she should blame on gallows humor. There were plenty of cemeteries in the area and nothing would set such a perfect stage for a meeting with a dead man like a few gravestones.

The gate stood open, a casual invitation to the public, as she approached. On this side everything was sunshine and heat, but the quiet, cooler shadows within beckoned. Her hand steady on the grip of her gun, she braced for the trap Garner would surely spring. If he wanted to talk, why run from the marketplace? He might easily have played along with the wallet ruse or waited for her in the alley behind the store.

What had changed in the span of—she checked the display on her phone as she silenced it—thirty minutes? Only one way to find out, she thought, easing closer to the gate.

She hesitated, taking in the full view of vine covered trees and shrubs stretching up and out over the walls, seeking the light. He could corner her in any number of places once she stepped inside. Her imagination leaped to the possibility that he’d already dug a shallow grave, intending to put her in it.

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