Page 47 of Bare
He grabbed the phone, still chilly from resting in his hiking pack all day. He’d brought it with them on the hike and checked it multiple times, but service had never kicked in. Now he had thirty-six text messages, thirteen missed calls, and five voicemails. In less than twenty-four hours.
“Shit.”
His back stiffened. Moisture evaporated from his already too-dry mouth. Since Phillipe died, an all-consuming fear flowed under the surface of his skin, waiting to break through at any hint that something could be wrong with someone he cared about. He wanted to double down and ignore the bad news that had been sitting, waiting to spring to life on his phone screen, but guilt from walking out on Rosemary had already become acid in his gut. He wasn’t going to let fear win again.
He took a swig from his water bottle, but the liquid did little to alleviate the sand-parched feeling in his throat. He entered his passcode and braced himself. All the voice messages and calls were from his mother and sister. Most of the texts were from them as well, and they all had the same theme:
I heard about the fire.
Are you all right?
Call me.
I’m getting really worried.
Call me.
Where are you?
Please call me!
He climbed out of the truck while he scrolled, his taut muscles relaxing. No one was hurt. His mother was fine. His sister was fine. His nephews were fine. He had no clue what fire they were talking about, and Mom and Zina would give him an earful for making them worry, but he didn’t mind. Reliefwas like that. He was so happy everyone was okay, the idea of getting harassed by his mom and sister suddenly didn’t seem that annoying.
The last unread text he clicked on had been the first one to come in. It was short and to the point.
Call me. Now.
Kemper was never one to waste time on too many words.
He hadn’t spoken to Gary since his mom told him about Gary’s visit to her house. He’d been too pissed off. Showing up at his mom’s house looking for Phillipe’s notebook was a dick move. Aleksei had been waiting for his temper to cool before confronting Gary about it. His blood still ran hot at the thought of Kemper dragging his mom into all of this, but Gary would know what the hell had gotten his mom and Zina all worked up. Better to get the facts from Kemper before calling his family, in case he needed to do some spinning.
Kemper answered on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”
“You first,” Aleksei retorted. “You owe me answers. What the hell were you doing at my mother’s house? I told you everything I had was in Philly, and you go to her goddamn house and try to bully her into giving you Phillipe’s notebook?”
Kemper sighed into the phone.
Aleksei had known Gary long enough that he could visualize the irritated head shake that came with that sigh. Kemper was full of tells. He shook his head when he was exasperated. He flicked his thumb when he lied. He squeezed his ear when he was desperate for a cigarette. Aleksei heard footsteps through the phone, followed by the opening and closing of a door and then that all-too-familiar strike of a match—long inhale and exhale.
“No one could ever bully that woman, and you know it.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? There was no reason for you to go there. No reason to drag her into this.”
“But you went there, didn’t you? What reason did you have?”
Aleksei’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need a reason to visit my own mother.”
“Your accent gets heavier when you lie. Not a lot. But enough.”
His teeth pressed together even more tightly. Kemper had been the one who taught him to focus on body language, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Gary had discovered some of his own tells. “What are you getting at?”
Another inhale, exhale, and sigh of contentment.
“When we spoke Friday night, your accent got thicker when you were talking about the notebook, so I knew you were lying. I wasn’t sure if it was about whether you had the damn thing, where you were keeping Phillipe’s things, or something else—but I knew you weren’t telling me the whole truth. You can’t get out of your own head, Thompson. Ever since Phillipe died, you’ve made everything about you. You’re obsessed with your own loss and blind to everything else and everybody else. I know Phillipe was your best friend. I feel bad for you. I really do. But I was the leader of that unit. Phillipe wasmyresponsibility. He was murdered onmywatch.”
Another inhale and exhale, and then Kemper’s voice was calmer, placating. It was the kind of voice you used when you explained something to a kid for the fourth time, trying not to lose your patience.
“I know you think I let brass sweep this under the rug, but I didn’t. Unlike you, I didn’t go off half-cocked and quit the FBI. I used my fucking brain and waited. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time…waiting until there was some kind of break. This isn’t just your chance for redemption—it’s mine too. And I’m not going to let you fuck it up by lying to me. If you lie to me, I’m going to go around you. You lied to me about the notebook, so I went around you. It’s that simple.”
