Page 39 of The Wolves Come at Night
But when could Richard have possibly done all of these things? He was always around. Always there for her, for the children. He worked at the bakery, yes, but the bakery was only a few blocks from their house, so he was always popping in to handle their lives.
And they had a marriage. They vacationed together. They went on bike rides together. The only time he was ever truly unreachable was when he had his poker game, and those impromptu events were only held when the guys could get away. Richard had a few buddies from school who had also moved to the area, and they got together in various places on occasion to play cards. It was his sanity break from the kids. She never begrudged him a minute of alone time. It wasn’t a regular thing.
Her husband’s smiling face animated in her mind, the soft hazel of his eyes teasing, the fullness of his mouth right before he kissed her goodbye as she left for her shifts at the ER. “Don’t wait up,” he’d say. “I feel a streak coming on.”
“The rolling poker game?” she asked finally. “That’s when he worked? That’s why there was never a set night?”
“For one. Listen, Avery, you were at the hospital a lot. He worked when you weren’t around, and sometimes when you were, if he had to. He was just very good at compartmentalizing, making sure you didn’t ever suspect he was anything but a loving husband, a father, a baker, a friend, so he could keep you safe.”
The plane landed and she followed Santiago to a car waiting for them on the tarmac. He took a moment to glance at his phone, then stowed it and buckled himself in carefully. She couldn’t imagine this cautious, careful, gentle man as some sort of lunatic spy running all over the world. Nor could she see her husband in that role. There had to be a darkness in someone to be such a good liar. She’d seen that darkness in the woman Santiago called Angelie, as deep and unfathomable as the midnight sky. But never in Richard.
When Santiago pulled onto the highway, she spoke again. “So you say he lied to me to keep me safe?” There was a sharp edge of hysteria starting now, and Santi’s hands gripped the wheel tighter.
“Let’s wait to discuss the rest until we get home. Right now we need—”
“No. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find out your husband, who you cherished, who died and left you to raise your children, to make a home, and keep the family you made together from spinning into oblivion, was nothing more than a liar?” The last word ended on a shriek.
“He was doing it for you, Avery. For the kids. To help make the world a better place. Alan can tell you more—he was the one who recruited Richard in the first place. They met right after you graduated.”
She slapped a hand against the window, her ring making a deep thunk. “This is obscene. What am I supposed to tell the boys? ‘Your sister’s been kidnapped by your father’s old spy buddy’? They’ll have me committed.”
Santiago went still. She stared at him.
“What? What is it? Tell me right this instant or I am going to call the State Department and ask them to confirm all of this, and then I’m calling the media. Joseph Game and your problems with him be damned, I want my daughter home.”
The Santiago who answered made her blood run cold. She’d never heard that voice before. Sharp. Staccato. Emotionless.
“I would recommend against that, Avery. You’ll get nowhere—we didn’t work for the US government. We worked for a group called Macallan, and Macallan works for themselves. And if Game thinks you’re not playing ball, he won’t hesitate to kill Carson just for fun.”
Her hand convulsed on the door handle. “Fuck you, Santiago. Don’t you dare threaten me.”
“Avery, come on. I understand. Really, I do. I’ve always hated that you didn’t know the truth, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t safe for you, it wasn’t safe for the kids. It especially wasn’t safe for Rory and Jules.”
His voice caught again, her friend returning from the depths of the stranger beside her, and she started to piece it together. “Tell me Richard didn’t recruit one of his sons to work for this shadow organization.”
Santiago was silent.
“Both of them?”
He nodded. “Rory is training to be our SIGINT now. Jules is showing remarkable aptitude for operations. We’ll have him on the ground soon.”
Her heart. She could swear it stopped for a moment.
“This is unbelievable. No. I won’t allow it. You are going to cut them both loose immediately. I will not have them dying because their father thought he could play spy. No.”
Her head fell back against the rest, and she shut her eyes. This is not happening. This is not happening.
“They are grown men, Avery. They make their own choices. They understand the risks, and they understand the rewards. They’re honorable boys, and we’re damn lucky to have them. We have a lot of family lineage in the service. It’s not uncommon for children to get curious, see something they shouldn’t, and be read in and trained.”
He took their exit. She was running out of time. She recognized that once they were back at the home, out of this strange bubble of confession that existed in the jet and the car, Santiago would stop talking and start acting, and she needed as much information as she could get.
“And you and Alan? Are you retired now?”
“For the most part, yes. We’re detailed to you. That was something we decided as a team when the five of us started working together. Should something happen to one of us, the others would take responsibility for their families. We don’t mind. We never have. Alan and I love you and the kids. And it’s given us a chance to settle down. Macallan didn’t have an issue with us as a couple, but we would never have had a life together, not like this, if we were still operational. We wouldn’t have Teddy.” She felt his gaze, and kept her eyes shut. She couldn’t take this, she couldn’t. “Richard was our friend, Avery, and so are you, though I’m sure you don’t feel that way right now.”
“And the woman? ‘Sònia.’ I know her name is Angelie. I heard you call her that at the hotel when you thought I was asleep. How does she fit into this little scheme?”
“Hmm.” If he was upset that she’d figured out the woman’s real name, he didn’t show it. He stayed silent for a few moments, maneuvering the car through the New Haven traffic. Everything looked strange to her, unfamiliar, as if she’d never seen these streets, never walked beside her husband here, played with her children in the park there. The world she knew, the world she relied upon, was no longer her own.
