Page 41 of Beyond Oblivion

“Uh—” I looked at the big, round clock in the kitchen.

“A convenience store will work. I forget the stores close earlier here,” Liis said.

“Yeah,” I said, standing. “Of course.” I bent down to peck Trenton on the lips.

“Drive careful,” Trenton said.

Liis grabbed her purse from the kitchen island, and we headed out the front door, climbing into my SUV. I backed out of the driveway, the quiet settling between us, both lost in our own thoughts. Just as we approached the closest Wal-Mart, I noticed the sign that normally glowed brightly above the easement between the parking lot and street click off.

“Looks like it just closed.” I glanced over at her. “There’s a Quik Mart up ahead, just a block over.” She nodded, and I turned in that direction.

When I pulled in and parked, Liis didn’t move. Instead, she reached over and turned down the radio. I sat back, trying to make sense of her unusually quiet demeanor—from what I could see in my peripheral. Liis was always composed, the type who could say more with a raised eyebrow than I could in a paragraph, but this was different. She wasn’t just being her reserved self; she was holding something back.

I shifted, suddenly aware of my own reflection in the windshield compared to hers. Liis sat there in her neatly pressed slacks, a tailored blazer that didn’t look too stiff or formal, and heels that were practical but polished. Although she was heavily pregnant and had spent the day traveling, her blouse—a soft pastel—was perfectly unwrinkled, and even her minimal makeup was expertly done. She looked like she’d just finished a photoshoot for the maternity section of an Ann Taylor catalog, every piece intentional and seamless, without a single strand of hair out of place.

When I traveled, it was in leggings and fuzzy boots, an oversized hoodie, and a trucker hat to conceal my ratty hair.

I glanced down, still in my work clothes—a worn concert tee layered with a flannel shirt I hadn’t checked for stains, paired with ripped jeans that were more accidental than trendy. My boots were scuffed, and I hadn’t used a hairbrush in over twelve hours. Next to Liis, I looked thrown together by a thrift store clearance bin. She made it look effortless, and I admired that about her. It was something I could never quite pull off, even on my better days.

Liis was still staring at the dash, her hand resting lightly on the knob she’d used to turn down the radio. She finally blinked, her shoulders shifting as if she’d suddenly remembered I was there. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t like her to let it so obviously consume her.

“I’ve thought the entire way here of how to speak to you about this,” she began.

My stomach instantly felt sick.

“I do this all day for my job, with agents, with people of interest, hard core criminals, but this,” she breathed out a laugh, “I’m struggling with.”

She waited another full minute.

“Oh, for the love of God, Liis, just say it,” I groaned, unable to wait a second longer.

She turned to me. “You’ve known Thomas and I work for the Bureau since St. Thomas. How did you know about Abby’s connection?”

“It was a short leap. I didn’t finish college, but I can still put two and two together without a calculator.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?” Her earlier hesitation was a ploy. Liis was now dialed in and ready to pounce.

I shrugged. “Not long after I saw you at Abby’s. It’s just the way my brain works. When things don’t make sense, I make connections until they do.”

“What about Travis? What was the math there?”

“TravisandLachlan,” I added.

She shifted to face me head on. “I need you to level with me. What exactly do you know, Camille?”

“It was an accident, Liis. When I came to Abby’s and you and her had all the papers on the table, I couldn’t quit thinking about it, and it just sort of snowballed. I don’t know details, just that Abby is helping with whatever you, Thomas, and Travis are working on. The rest are just theories.”

“Please enlighten me.”

“Okay… Travis is working undercover, probably for Benny Carlisi, as part of some kind of deal with the feds after the fire. Abby has valuable intel because of her childhood and her dad being Mick Abernathy. I don’t really know how Kostas is involved, but he randomly moved to Eakins, bought IronE, and sends Travis on too many work trips for a small-town personal trainer. Kostas is around Abby so much I once wondered if they were having an affair. He immediately scans every room he’s in for exits and potential threats just like you and Thomas do. Travis is an asset, Abby is more of an off-the-books consultant, but Kostas is definitely an agent. I’d put money on it.”

Liis faced forward, letting her head fall back against the seat, frustration weighing down her delicate features. “If you know, someone else has to.”

Her remark rubbed me the wrong way. “Who else is observing your late-night evidence reviews with Abby, knows Travis’s travel schedule and what Thomas does? Who else knows about Abby, Mick, and the Carlisis? I only know because Travis mentioned it to Trent once, and he told me. It’s not that obvious, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ifyoufigured it out…” she grumbled.

“Hey,” I snapped. Not even chronic, all-consuming guilt could stop my Irish temper from bubbling to the surface. “I’ve put up with a lot of shit over the years, but you’re not going to sit inmycar and insult my intelligence just because you’re afraid you’ve been sloppy.”

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