Page 37 of Final Vendetta

Last night was a glaring reminder that I couldn’t just wish my past away.

I aimed another punch at the bag, imagining Liam’s face, the feeling of raw satisfaction that would come from finally erasing him from our lives pushing me faster and harder. The past few weeks had lulled me into believing I could build something good with Imogene, free of anything that had come before.

Free of my sins.

But the break-in made me realize something I’d been happy to ignore. My promise to keep Imogene safe and mydetermination to keep my past buried couldn’t co-exist in the same world.

One of them would have to go.

The jarring chime of the doorbell broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. Retrieving my cell from a nearby table, I checked the security app and found a tall, older man in a dark suit standing outside. Everything about him exuded authority — a suit too formal for the California heat, a stance too rigid to belong to anyone except someone used to waiting people out.

Grabbing a towel, I dabbed at the sweat covering my face and torso before hastily throwing a t-shirt over my head and making my way out of my makeshift gym.

“Gideon Saint?” the man asked as soon as I opened the door, his gaze cool and assessing.

I gave a slight nod. “And you are?”

“Agent Lawrence Myers. FBI.” He flashed his badge before tucking it back into his suit jacket pocket. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Prescott about last night’s incident.” His words were measured, his eyes never leaving mine, as if searching for something.

“Agent Myers,” Imogene said brightly as she appeared beside me.

With furrowed brows, I looked between Imogene and Agent Myers, her recognition making it clear they’d already met. But when?

“I’m glad to see you out of the hospital and moving around. I trust your recovery is going well?”

“It is. I’m hoping my doctor will clear me to return to work next week.”

I did my best to push down my unease over the prospect, especially after last night.

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to life getting back to normal.”

“I certainly am. Won’t you come in?”

She stepped back to allow him to enter, something I’d hoped to avoid.

As he crossed the threshold, his eyes continued to survey me. I tried to get a read on him but couldn’t. Which only unnerved me even more.

“Would you like some coffee?” Imogene asked as she led him toward the living room.

“You don’t have to wait on him,” I admonished. “You still need to take it easy.”

“I’m fine.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

“No need,” Myers interjected. “I won’t be long.”

“What can I do for you?” She gestured to the reading chair opposite her as she settled into the couch. I joined her, keeping my gaze trained on the agent.

“I just wanted to ask a few questions about the break-in last night.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small notepad. “I must admit, I was quite surprised to learn about it from my supervisor and not from you, especially after I specifically asked you to reach out if William Pierce tried to contact you.”

“With all due respect, Agent Myers,” I spoke up in a firm tone. “Imogene was a bit shaken up after everything. We both were. It was nearly midnight by the time we finally finished with the local police, and all we wanted to do was go to sleep.”

“That’s understandable,” Myers said, though there was a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Then he opened a folder and produced several images — crime scene snapshots of the framed photos left in Imogene’s home.

“These were taken last night at the townhouse by the forensics team.” He placed six photos on the glass coffee table between us. “Can you tell me where and when each one was taken?”

“She already told the local police everything she knew. It should be in their report,” I interjected.

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