Page 10 of What Started In Deception

“I guess that’s your prerogative. But if I could come inside and show you⁠—”

Her spine snapped straight now. “So you can put a bug in my house or one of those spy camera things?”

He laughed because he couldn’t help it. She amused him. Lydia wasn’t like any cooperator—or potential cooperator—that he’d ever worked with. Usually, they were criminals trying to get themselves out of a shit ton of trouble, but this was entirely different. She was entirely different. “I don’t have a warrant to spy on you, so you can rest easy there.”

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

She muttered something under her breath as she turned and started walking away.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he called after her. “Or when you head to your book club. That’s tonight, right? At six thirty?”

“God,” she said, the exasperation in her voice more than clear as she turned back to face him. “If I meet you at the park, will you go away?”

He shook his head apologetically, even when he wasn’t sorry at all. “But I can explain what’s going on.”

She crossed her arms again. “I’m not telling you anything. About Will. About Uncle James. About any of my family. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

He shrugged. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

She clenched her jaw. “I’ll meet you at the park in ten minutes. By the ice cream stand.”

“We could drive over together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t like you.”

He struggled not to grin. Even when Lydia was trying her best to be unkind, she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I guess I’ll just follow you to the park when you’re ready.”

“Whatever,” she said, heading back to her vehicle, slamming the door as she got in.

Chapter Five

Ty pulled into the spot next to Lydia’s by the ice cream stand, grabbing the folder before he got out. He met her at the hood of her SUV, breathing in her subtle flower and vanilla scent. “So, where should we do this?”

“That bench over there,” she said, walking off, not bothering to wait for him.

He followed, sitting down next to her under the shade of a big maple tree as children played on the playground a couple hundred yards away.

Lydia crossed her legs as she crossed her arms, slightly turning her body away from his. “Let’s get this over with.”

He pulled a picture from the folder. “Do you know these people?”

She looked at the image of her cousin talking to another man at The Tap Room, a popular sports bar in the heart of downtown Boston. “Obviously, I know Will, but I have no idea who that is.”

He took out another picture of Will smiling and shaking the same man’s hand on the sidewalk outside the same sports bar. The men wore different outfits, signifying a meetup on a different day. “You’ve never seen him before?”

She shook her head. “But Will has several clients and friends that I’ve never met.”

He took out two more shots of Will talking to the same man, both times at the same sports bar. Then he took out a picture of Will and Senator James Monroe standing in the parking lot at Monroe House, the family’s nonprofit organization that helped families in crisis, laughing with the same stranger.

“Who is he? This man?” Lydia tapped on the guy’s image.

“Richard Russo. He has ties to organized crime.”

Lydia’s gaze flew to his before she adamantly shook her head. “No. Uncle James and Will have nothing to do with organized crime. They wouldn’t. That’s not how my family does things.”

Ty raised his brow. “So, the Monroes are the one family in DC who does everything on the up-and-up?”