Page 81 of Blind Trust
Nic looked down at his phone. He really needed Walsh to pick up.
“Nicolás, I’m worried. I think we need to go meet her.”
He was worried too. About R.D. Lyla. What Walsh would do when he found out.Desk jobs. Might not be such a bad thing for Lyla...if they could keep her behind one.
“Okay, let’s go.” Nic shut the door and went around his truck. “Lord, the Red Sea needs parting.”
Thirty minutes later, Nic and Lyla were riding the escalator down to the L’Enfant Metro Station. A burst of warmer air greeted them, along with the smell of burned electrical wiring and oil. The squeal of brakes echoed from below as the Silver Line pulled in. Nic scanned the passengers riding the escalator up—the ones impatiently passing him on the left, the others who were in no rush whatsoever.
“Where are we supposed to meet her?”
“I don’t know.” Lyla’s eyes were searching the faces around them. “She just said to meet here.”
“What’s she wearing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she give you a time?”
“Nicolás”—Lyla faced him, worried—“I don’t know. She just said to come here and that she had something to prove her theory.”
He put a hand on Lyla’s back, and she leaned in so that her body was pressed against his. When he inhaled, he picked up the subtle scent of her shampoo and his heart reacted. Whether or not she returned his feelings, at least she knew the truth. He could leave knowing he’d been completely honest.
At the bottom of the escalator, they looked around. The Metro security booth was empty. Passengers were moving through theturnstiles or purchasing tickets. Lyla looked around but shook her head. She pulled out two Metro cards from her wallet and handed one to Nic. They scanned them through the turnstile and headed toward the train platforms.
There weren’t a lot of people down here, so it shouldn’t be hard to spot her, except no one waiting for their train looked like R.D.
“Excuse me.” A girl with bright purple hair shaved on one side, an earful of piercings, and dark lipstick tapped on Lyla’s shoulder. “Can you tell me what time the next train is coming in?”
Nic eyed the girl’s ripped jeans, combat boots, and green military fatigue jacket circa Vietnam and guessed her to be in her early twenties. Was she a threat? A distraction? Working IEDs in Afghanistan, that was the game. His attention moved to those around them, assessing anyone who might be the real threat.
Lyla pointed to the electronic sign. “Orange Line is coming in two minutes. Yellow in four.”
“Thanks.” The girl reached into her pocket, and Nic was already moving in front of Lyla when she withdrew a folded piece of paper. She gave Nic a dirty look. “I was told to give this to you.”
Lyla took the piece of paper. “From who?”
The girl threw up a peace sign and walked away. “Peace.”
“Was that R.D.?” Nic tracked the girl, who had stuck an AirPod in her ear and was already halfway up the escalator. “Do we need to follow her?”
“No, that’s not her.” Lyla glanced around for a few moments before opening the paper. “It’s a copy of a photo.”
Nic glanced over her shoulder at a grainy image of three people—two men, one woman—talking outside of what looked like a large building. The photo was taken at a distance and there was something about it, the clothes or something, that made it look like it wasn’t a recent shot.
Nic’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping it was Walsh.Jack. He answered but could barely hear Jack’s voicebefore the call cut out. The bars on his phone indicated his service was bad.
“Do you know what the photo is?”
“No.” Lyla shook her head and turned the page over. “Wait, she wrote something. ‘Photo taken September ’98, Tottenham, London.’ Wasn’t that where Connor Murphy was killed? The CIA officer?”
Nic’s phone vibrated again. Jack. “Let’s head back up. Jack’s trying to call, but I can’t hear anything he’s saying.”
“Okay.” Lyla moved with him, only glancing up to look around again. “Do you think R.D. sent that girl just to deliver this to us?”
“Who knows.” Nic was just grateful they were leaving without an incident. He checked his phone again and answered the call as they rode the escalator up. “Hello? Jack?” But Nic couldn’t make sense of the garbled, staticky words. “I’ll call you back in one minute.”
Nic hoped Jack had heard that and ended the call. He led Lyla off the escalator and heard his phone ping with a message. He opened it and felt the blood drain from his face. He looked over at Lyla, a knot in his throat. “It’s Walsh.”
