Page 15 of Covert Past

“And you were supposed to disappear, never to be found. You’d take the blame for the murder. The traitor would be free to continue to sell out his country.”

“Something like that.” She picked up her cup again. “I went to Daniel’s apartment. I was so afraid I’d be found. I waited until it was dark and got in through the back entrance.” She pulled in a breath. “The place had been trashed. Whatever information was there had been destroyed or taken.”

Boone blew out a long whistle. “They covered all their bases. Is there anyone you can think of who might know something about what happened that night?”

Her fingers trembled as she ran several around the rim of the cup. “No one. I exhausted all my assets’ information. I found out a few days later that there was an agent from Syrian Intelligence found dead near the same location where Daniel died. I’m certain the man was his contact. They killed the agent so he couldn’t talk.”

Boone could hardly believe someone fromMossad would betray their country to the enemy. It seemed unthinkable, and yet he knew of many cases where agents within US intelligence had done the same. All for money.

“There’s absolutely nothing left that can be used to track me, and yet they keep finding me.” She looked around the room. “You were right. Someone was here earlier, I’m certain of it.”

He held her gaze. “Anything taken?”

“No, nothing. I have a phone, but it’s a burner and I keep it with me. I don’t own any other device. All I have are a few changes of clothes and toiletries. Every bit of information I’ve been able to gather on the case is up here.” She pointed to her head.

Boone tried not to let the hopelessness rearing its head win. Ellie needed his help, and he wanted to help her. “Is there anyone from your past I can reach out to?”

She shook her head. “Daniel had a younger brother. He was in university at the time. Michael would be . . . twenty-seven now.” She looked his way. “But he wouldn’t know anything.”

Boone pulled out the small notebook he kept in his pocket and wrote down Michael’s name. “What about his parents? Yours?”

She quickly shook her head again. “I haven’t dared reach out to my family. Mossad will be watching for any contact.”

“What about your former director?”

“Gideon won’t help. He believes I’m guilty.” She scrubbed her hand over her forehead.

“I know someone who can help,” Boone said quietly. “While with the CIA, I worked a mission with a Mossad agent. We’ve kept in touch through the years—”

She didn’t let him finish. “You can’t. If you bring this up, they’ll know you’re involved somehow. They’ll come here. I will be imprisoned. Or worse.”

Boone leaned forward. “I trust my friend. Let me feel him out. He doesn’t know anything about where I live, or that I’m working as a private investigator.”

He believed trusting anyone with her secret wasn’t easy. She’d shared with him, and he was grateful, but they’d need moreto go on than the information she’d gathered.

She slowly agreed. “But please, don’t mention this to your people.”

Boone wanted to tell her she could trust the men and women at Hope Island Securities, but that step would be for another day.

“Alright. For now. But I can’t keep this from them for long.”

“I know. Thank you.” She looked into his eyes, and his heart melted. He’d been where she was. Not to the extent of being framed for murder, but to the point where he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live with what he’d done. He understood how crippling it could be.

Boone glanced out the window as the first rays of daybreak lightened the shoreline. They’d been talking for hours. One thing became clear. He didn’t trust leaving her here alone. “I think I should move in here for the time being.”

He waited for her to reject the idea and was surprised when she didn’t. Being on the run had worn her down. She was probably tired of fighting the battle alone.

“I would appreciate that. I don’t want to be alone after what happened.” She glanced at the time and jumped to her feet. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Go shower. I’ll tell Hank it was my fault.”

Ellie stopped midway to the door and gave him an incredulous look. “Your fault, how?”

She didn’t want her employer getting any ideas about them, did she?

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Ellie left to shower, Dottie following at her heels. Boone cleaned their cups before turning off the coffeemaker, his brain churning over the story she’d told him and the best way to approach his friend for answers.

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