Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Seeing the distress in Alisa's big brown eyes, Jason turned the computer back around and closed the lid. "I could use a drink, too. Let's go to the other room."

Alisa nodded and followed him into the other room. As she sat down on the big comfortable couch in the living room, he set the computer on the dining room table and then moved over to the bar. "What would you like? Wine, whiskey, tequila?"

"I'll take red wine if it's there."

He opened a bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and then took them into the living room. He sat down on the couch next to her and handed her a glass.

She took a long sip, then set her glass on the coffee table and slipped off her shoes. Getting more comfortable, she tucked her legs up under her and picked up her glass again.

"So, what do you think your father was doing at the house?" he asked.

"It looked like he was taking suitcases and putting them in his car for his trip."

"You said he left Tuesday. The video is from early this morning. He was still in town last night when you were attacked. "

She stared back at him with a troubled gaze. "Maybe he left, came back, then left again."

"Why would he do that? And he didn't just take out one suitcase, he took several other items. I think he knew the house was going up in flames."

Her brows raised in surprise. "What? Why would you think that? The fire happened hours later."

"The fire started in two places. The initial report from the fire department was that there were probably at least two incendiary devices that triggered the fire. It's possible your father started the fire by either setting the devices before he left or triggering them with a remote."

"Why would he burn down his own house? That doesn't make sense, Jason."

"If he was responsible for the toxins that made your mother sick, he might have wanted to hide his tracks."

She started shaking her head before he could finish his sentence. "No. He would never hurt my mother. Never. He adores her."

"I understand you want your father to be a good guy."

"He is a good guy," she said fiercely. "You're making assumptions, but you don't have evidence that he did anything except take some things out of the house. You don't know him, but I do. He's been in my life for twenty-eight years, and he's been an amazing father. I don't have any reason not to believe in him. He's always been a great person. You can ask anyone who knows him. Every year, he's voted the most popular teacher in the school. He's not evil. He's not a killer."

"Whoever poisoned your mother had access to the house."

"That doesn't mean it was my dad. My father is not an explosives expert, nor does he know how to poison someone. This is crazy. He's a teacher. He's a dad and a husband. He coached my soccer team for three years. He ran an after-school club for kids who had nowhere to go. He used to take me and my friends to the mall and wait for us so we wouldn't have to walk home after dark. He was there with ice cream when someone was mean to me, or I broke up with a boyfriend. He's not the person you're describing."

"He sounds a little too good to be true," he said dryly, thinking she'd described a father who had been nothing like the man he grew up with. He'd loved his father, but his dad had never spent a lot of time with him. He'd been too devoted to his job.

"Everything I just said is true, Jason. I'm not lying to you."

"Okay. Then where is this super father of yours now?"

She hesitated, then said, "I wish I knew."

There was something about her slight hesitation that made him wary. "What do you know, Alisa? Because it feels like you know something you haven't told me."

She averted her gaze, staring down at her wineglass.

"Alisa," he prodded. "I can't protect you if I don't know everything."

"I don't know where he is," she said quickly.

"But?" He gave her a hard look. "Haven't I proved that I have your best interests at heart, Alisa? You can trust me."

"I do trust you, but I'm worried you're so set on my father being a bad guy you won't give him a chance to explain."

She definitely knew something.

"I'm your best bet at making sure nothing happens to him until he can explain what he's involved in. But make no mistake, he is involved." He paused, letting that sink in, then added, "My team has been looking into your father's life. It appears that he took someone else's identity about thirty years ago, shortly before he married your mother."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she asked. "That can't be true."

"It is. His educational background is tied to a man named Daniel Hunt, but your father is not the man who attended the college on his résumé."

"No. You're wrong."

"I'm not wrong," he said forcefully. "At some point, your father reinvented himself."

"Why would he do that?"

"I can only assume he needed to escape his past. What did he tell you about his childhood and his family? Have you met any of his relatives? Grandparents? Aunts and uncles? Cousins?"

"My father was an only child, and his parents died when he was twenty. He said there wasn't anyone left on his side of the family after that, or at least no one he talked to."

"That aligns with someone wanting to start over. With no relatives, he could be whoever he wanted to be. What about your mother's relatives?"

"They were around. Her dad died when I was six, so I don't remember much about him. Her mother passed away seven years ago, and we saw a lot of my grandmother when I was growing up. She lived down the street. My dad always said she was a great blessing to him because he missed his mother so much. She was his second mom." She shook her head, her brown eyes troubled. "This is all so unbelievable, Jason. How could my dad teach science if he never got a degree? I know he's smart, but how could he fake it all these years?"

"I don't know. Did he mention traveling in his youth? Was he ever in Russia or any of the other Eastern European countries?"

"He told me he has never gone anywhere. His parents didn't have money to travel. He was born in Nebraska and lived there until his parents died, and then he moved to California to go to school."

"Do you know what ethnic background he is?"

"He said he has some Greek blood in him. He has dark hair and olive skin. He told me he'd like to go there sometime, but he never has. And like I told you before, I haven't even been out of the country, so…" Her words trailed away. "I just can't see a connection. It's like you're trying to take my very normal dad and make him into a spy or something. You're telling me a story about my life that doesn't feel true."

"I think the story of your life is true, Alisa. But I don't believe the story of your father's life prior to your birth is anything close to what he told you."

She gave him a wounded look.

"I'm sorry," he added. "I'm not trying to hurt you, but you have to see what's right in front of you. Your father is the reason your life is upside down. Now, I'm going to ask you again. Do you know something you haven't told me, Alisa?"

She let out a sigh. "Yes. He sent me a text right before you picked me up tonight."

His pulse leapt. "What did it say?"

"I could show you his exact words, but I'd have to turn on my phone."

"Why don't you tell me what he said, and I'll decide if I need to read it for myself?"

"He said he was sorry for not being with us, that he was trying to keep us safe. That he would explain at some point what was happening. He did mention that he thought my mother was being poisoned, and I should tell the doctors to test her blood."

"He thinks his wife is being poisoned, but he doesn't come running to her side?"

"I don't understand it, either. But he asked me to trust him, to know that he loves me and my mother. He also told me not to tell anyone he'd been in touch, that I'd be risking all our lives if I did." She bit down on her lip. "I hope I didn't make the wrong choice by telling you now."

"You didn't." He met her gaze. "Did he say anything else?"

"He told me to get out of town, to stay away from my apartment, to get my mother security—but he didn't say where he was, what he was doing, or when I would see him again. He didn't say anything about a terrorist or his past. It was not a long text." She took a breath. "I know it looks bad. And as much as I love him, I am angry with him. I feel like he abandoned us. But it's also impossible to ignore the faith my mother has in him and her absolute certainty that he is doing what he needs to do."

As she rationalized her father's absence, he had to ask, "Are you sure he didn't set up a meeting with you somewhere? Maybe tomorrow?"

"No. He didn't do that," she snapped, a bit of her rage toward her father turning toward him.

"I had to ask."

"You didn't have to ask." Her brown eyes flashed with fire. "You want me to trust you, then you have to trust me."

"You held on to the information about that text for a while, and I'm not sure you would have told me if I hadn't pressed you. I want to trust you, Alisa, but I can see how conflicted you are."

"I love my parents."

"I understand that, but this isn't just about your family. Thousands of people could lose their lives or could be injured for life. I'm trying to stop a catastrophically bad event, and I don't want to scare you, but you cannot bury your head in the sand."

"I'm not doing that."

"I hope not, because this isn't over. You and your mother are still in danger because of something your father did. We can sort all that out later, but we have to focus on what is going on now and getting your dad to talk to me is the best possible scenario."

"I understand. If he contacts me again, you'll be the first to know," she said with a heavy sigh.

"Maybe you should try to get some rest. You must be exhausted."

"After that lovely bedtime story you just told me about the end of the world coming?" she asked dryly. "I think we need to talk about something else for a few minutes. Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to sleep at all."

"How about some more wine?" he said with a smile "Would that help?"

"It couldn't hurt."

He got up from the couch and brought the wine bottle back to the table. He poured them both half a glass and sat back down. "How are you feeling physically?"

"Battered and bruised," she said. "What about you? "

"Same."

"We've talked enough about my family. Tell me about yours, Jason. You said your father was an FBI agent, so you followed in his footsteps?"

"Yes. I went into the family business," he said as he drank his wine. " My grandparents were both FBI agents—my grandfather even made deputy director before he retired."

"That's impressive. You're like FBI royalty."

He gave her a dry smile. "I have had big shoes to fill. My father was also quite the hero in his day. He had some big wins."

"What did your grandmother do in the FBI?"

"She was a profiler, and she loved it. She was great at reading people. Sharp as a tack and her insights were always right. But when she had children, she quit the bureau and became a stay-at-home mother." He smiled to himself. "Although her skills were still in evidence when I tried to lie to her as a teenager. She could see right through me."

"Is she still alive?"

"She is. She lives in a senior housing development in Encino. She moved there after my grandfather died eight years ago. That's how both my father and I ended up out here. We didn't want her to be alone."

"What about your mother? Was she also in the FBI?"

"No. She hated the bureau."

"Why?"

"Because it was my father's obsession, his mistress, she used to say. She thought he was more in love with his job than he was with her. They divorced when I was twelve, and three years later, she passed away from cancer."

"I'm sorry. You've had a lot of loss in your life."

"Too much," he agreed. "But that's life. We don't get to choose the path we walk."

"We get to choose some things," she said. "It's not all preordained."

"I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that when nasty shit happens, there's nothing you can do about it, except to keep going."

"That's true. Were you and your dad close after your mom died?"

"No. He was still burying himself in work. During the school year, we had a housekeeper who made sure I had food and tried to keep an eye out for me, but I was an angry teenager and probably had too much freedom. My grandparents would take me in during the summers, and those months were good." He paused. "You don't really want to hear all this, do you?"

"I do," she said, an almost desperate note in her voice. "Tell me more."

He didn't want to tell her more. He wasn't even sure why he'd told her this much. He wasn't one to overshare, especially when it came to family.

"Did you join the FBI just because it was the family business or because you were trying to find a connection with your dad?" she asked.

He was surprised at how quickly she'd made that leap. "It was actually my grandfather who kept telling me I should make the FBI my career. I wasn't sure. When I went to college, I got a degree in international relations and criminology. I actually thought about joining the CIA, making my own path. I even worked for the State Department for a few years after college, but eventually, I applied to the FBI."

"What did your dad think about it?"

"He was ambivalent. I'm not sure he wouldn't have preferred I do something else."

"Why? He should have been proud to have you follow in his footsteps."

"He was probably afraid I'd embarrass him, screw something up. He was a hard man with high expectations for himself and for his son. It wasn't easy to get a compliment from him." He cleared a throat, wondering again why he was telling her something so personal .

"You don't seem like someone who is a screwup, Jason," she said, giving him a doubtful look. "From what I've seen, you're very good at your job."

"There are times when I could have been better."

"That's true for all of us," she said. "But that's okay. We all need room to grow. And nobody is perfect." She ended her statement with a yawn.

He smiled at her pretty and very tired face. "It appears I've now sufficiently bored you into almost falling asleep."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a guilty look. "It's been a wonderful distraction to think about something else. And your job is so important, Jason. You're a real-life hero."

"So are you. You save people's lives, too."

"I don't think I've ever saved someone's life, but I've helped ease their pain," she said.

"That's important, too. Do you like being a nurse?"

"Most days. Sometimes, I wish I had more power to heal because it's difficult to watch people suffer. But I do everything I can."

"That's all you can do."

"I was planning to go back to work on Monday. Do you think this will be over by then?"

"Let's see what tomorrow brings."

"So, it's day by day, huh?"

He met her gaze. "I think it has to be, don't you?"

"I guess. How do you do this and stay sane? How do you have a life outside of world-changing, life-altering events?"

"I don't have a life outside of my job. It's much easier to do this work and be single. I don't have to worry about someone worrying about me. I don't have to feel bad about missing personal events, like birthdays and anniversaries. I can just focus on what needs to be done."

She frowned. "That sounds incredibly lonely."

He shrugged. "I don't have time to be lonely. I'm busy."

"What about when you're not busy, when you come home after work, and there's no one there?"

"It doesn't happen very often, or I'm so tired, I just want to sleep."

"That doesn't sound like a pace you can keep up forever."

"It works for me," he said, not wanting to admit that he'd been feeling a little stressed by the constant flow of cases one after the other, feeling like he was on a treadmill that he couldn't get off. But getting off this treadmill wasn't an option. He had to stop Novikov. This might be the only chance he would have. So he decided to change the subject. "What about you, Alisa? What do you do when you're not working? You said you don't have a boyfriend, but are you dating?"

"I was seeing someone for a few weeks until my mom got sick. It turned out he was great with a casual, fun relationship, but terrible with anything serious. He couldn't stand going to the hospital. The smells made him sick. After showing up once for me, I never saw him there again."

"Sounds like a loser. You deserve better than that."

"I think so, too. I texted him after I almost got kidnapped, and his response was so dismissive and uncaring that I told him we were done. I can't be with someone who is that selfish."

"I agree."

"I've always wanted a love story like the one my parents have. They've always been so happy together." Her voice faltered. "At least, I thought they were. Maybe everything was a lie."

He was sorry to see her mood turn. "That part of your father's life might not have been a lie. Your parents have been together for thirty years. That's something."

"I always thought so, but now I don't know." She yawned again. "I know I should go to bed. I just feel like once I'm alone in the quiet, everything is going to come back to me."

"I can't do anything about the nightmares, but I want you to know that you're safe here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She gave him an emotion-filled look that made his gut clench. They were treading into dangerous territory, and he couldn’t let them go there. He cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Do you want me to walk you upstairs?"

"No. I can make it on my own," she said as she stood up. "Thank you, Jason. For everything you've done and are doing for me. I really appreciate it. You're a good guy, and I have to say, I think you might be a little too hard on yourself." She paused, giving him a look that heated the air between them. "I wish we'd met under other circumstances," she murmured. "But I probably never would have met someone like you if all this craziness wasn't happening to me."

"Probably not," he said, feeling once again pummeled by an intense desire to pull her into his arms and drive all the potential nightmares out of her head. "You really need to go upstairs, Alisa."

"So, it's not just me?"

He knew exactly what she was asking. "No. It's not just you. But I'm here to protect you, nothing else."

Her gaze filled with conflicting emotions, and he found himself holding his breath, wondering if she would push back against the wall he'd just put between them.

After a long moment, she said, "Goodnight, Jason." And then she turned and walked up the stairs.

He couldn't stop watching her until she was finally out of sight. Then he blew out a breath. This wasn't good. He couldn't let himself get caught up in her, in feelings that had no place in an investigation, in his search for Novikov. That had to be his focus, his only focus.

Which was why he was going to stay downstairs and review the investigation. He needed to think about work and not about Alisa.

But even as he pulled out his computer and sat down at the dining room table, his mind kept drifting to the smart, beautiful, sweet, and sexy woman upstairs.

He'd made the right decision; he just wasn't happy about it.