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It wasn't the truth.
But Brook didn't need the truth on her side.
It all came down to appearances, and she'd gotten to be an expert at being whoever she needed to be to get the job done.
"Jennifer, I take back my conditions."
"Really? All of them?"
Brook figured that Graham had gotten his closure, and it was about damn time that she got hers.
"All of them. Feel free to ask me anything you want."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jacob Walsh
January 2022
Wednesday — 8:01pm
Thebarwasn'tascrowded as it had been last Saturday, and the pop music coming out of the speakers had been turned down a notch or two for the weekday evening. There was still a layer of a musty odor that hung in the air containing a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and disinfectant. It was enough to turn one's stomach, but the swarm of regulars didn't seem to mind. It was as if they didn't even notice the depth of the filth in which they sat, too busy trying to impress the other with their weekly stories of so-called success.
They wanted to be so perfect in the eyes of society, yet they couldn't even identify the imperfections surrounding them.
Sad.
Jacob adjusted the wool ivy cap a little lower on his brow. He'd gone to great lengths to grow out a full beard, dye his hair darker, and adjust to wearing colored contacts.
Blue, to be precise.
Add in a light European accent, and no one stopped for a moment to consider that he might be the same individual whose picture had been splashed across the news every day and night for months. People couldn't bring themselves to make the connection between a polite foreigner to that of a deranged serial killer.
He took exception to the adjectives that had been used to describe him.
The wordderangedseemed like such an insult, but he chalked it up to their limited vocabulary and even more stunted intellect. They couldn't help their ineptitude.
"Usual?"
Jacob simply nodded and took a seat on one of the stools. It didn't matter which one, given that the mirror behind the bar gave him a perfect view of everyone inside the small watering hole. The place wasn't upscale, yet it didn't have the dangerous element that frequented the bars across town. It was a middle-of-the-row type establishment, perfect for the lawyers who still owed a ton of student debt and were trying to make ends meet while living in the inequity of the city.
Still, he should have left the area long ago.
Too much attention surrounded his baby sister as of late, and even an idiot could have spotted the surveillance van that had been assigned to the building that housed her condo. On top of such scrutiny, her identity had been revealed to the public.
He could only imagine the emotional upheaval she'd experienced upon being ousted in such a manner. Someone from the Bureau must have leaked their connection, because she'd been very careful of letting it slip to those in her apartment building. It had taken him a while to figure out who could unwillingly give him information.
Now that he had someone, it made it additionally harder to leave the area.
Who would have thought that he could experience something akin to homesickness? D.C. wasn't even their home, but wherever Brook was…well, that was where he called home.
He wasn't sure what had prompted such a reaction, but the urge to stay had been overwhelming.
He had very much enjoyed his visit to General Graham Elliott's residence. Such a sweet housekeeper. Maid. Whatever her title was, the woman had reminded him of the sweet librarian who used to talk to him back in high school.
"Larry, can you turn that up?"
Jacob accepted his scotch on the rocks as the bartender moved toward the other end of the bar where a mid-sized television hung down from the ceiling. There were a few sets positioned around the bar for football games on Sunday afternoon.
