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“She’s actually Hannah Stone, freelance reporter.”
“Say again?”
“Melanie Byers doesn’t exist. Hannah Stone is her real name. She was onsite at the hotel the day of the assassination on an unrelated assignment–something about the EPA and a damaged chemical plant. I don’t really have the details on that. All I know is that she lied to us and to President Coulter and now I’ve got a blasted reporter tagging along for the most intel-sensitive mission we’ve ever been on.”
His words sped up as he talked, the agitation making them come out faster. He managed to keep his volume down. It wouldn’t do for any curious neighbors to ask questions. He also didn’t want his team eavesdropping on this particular conversation. Missing the enormous lie from Hannah wasn’t exactly the mark of a competent leader. Will should have caught the dishonesty. Usually, he had such a good read on people.
Not this time.
Ross let out a low whistle. “Well, that is some development. What did she say when you confronted her?”
Will’s mind slipped back to the scene in the bedroom and the distraught look in Hannah’s eyes as she had apologized and pleaded with him.
“That it was all a misunderstanding and she was going to tell us. Until I scared her away with my not-so-secret disdain of the press.”
Ross chuckled. “Didn’t take her too long to uncover that Gilbert character trait, eh?”
Will said his boss’s name with a tone of warning. He didn’t appreciate being the butt of the joke when it came to this. “I’ve got my reasons for disliking the press. She managed to add another one to the list with this entire fiasco.”
“Okay, okay. Sucks that we didn’t know. It might have changed things along the way, or it might not. But we can only move forward, right? I’m going to loop in Coulter. We’ve got plans later with the girls, anyway. I’m curious about this other case Hannah was working on though. Get as much info as you can about it, and I’ll see what the president knows. President Waters wasn’t planning to be at the hotel that day, but someone knew she would show up. And that might lead us to the killer. Or, even more importantly, who hired them.”
“Got it. I’m reaching out via email to the killer, just to see what he does and see if Joey has any luck tracking him.”
“We’ve got Stephen, too, don’t forget. He’s very good.”
Will dismissed the option. Stephen was fine, but Will knew and trusted Joey. And right now, that felt like it was more important. He didn’t have the capacity to build trust with another new person just to have it dashed like it had been with Hannah.
“Have a good night, sir.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Hannah could barely bringherself to leave her room. Each time she ventured to the kitchen or the bathroom, all she felt were eyes on her. Steely-blue ones, completely void of the affection and warmth that used to be there.
She opened the fridge, surveying the ingredients. The guys had been living on sandwiches or microwave noodles for the last two days. Maybe she could thaw some of the emotional freeze she was experiencing.
“Anyone hungry?” she asked, pulling sausage from the fridge. Apparently, Miranda had provided more than just convenience food after all.
She looked back toward the living room. Will was on a laptop. Hers? She shook her head. She didn’t want to know. Tank was at the dining table, looking at what seemed to be a map of Brookside. Pierce was… well, Pierce was scrolling through short videos on his phone.
“Food? Anyone?”
Will ignored her, unsurprisingly. Pierce grunted something that sounded like “Always.”
Tank looked up and met her eyes. “I could eat.”
“All right. Give me twenty minutes.”
She moved around the kitchen, losing herself in the rhythm of fixing a meal. A meal that wasn’t just for one person, in a kitchen that was larger than a closet. As she browned the sausage and boiled water, she could almost imagine things were okay.
When all the food was finished, she portioned generous plates of the pasta with red sauce and set them on the counter for each of the guys.
“Enjoy,” she said with a smile.
“Score!” said Pierce, jumping over the back of the sofa after he saw the food.
Tank came and grabbed his plate, giving her a small nod of thanks before returning to the command center they’d set up at the table.
“Will?” her voice tripped over his name. She swallowed her nerves. “I made dinner.”
