Leaning towards her, Redmayne bestowed his warmest, most charismatic smile upon Ella. ‘I lost my own parents young, you know,’ he told her.
‘Really?’ said Ella, wondering whether this too was a lie. Oddly, she thought not.
‘Yeah.’ He nodded somberly. ‘So trust me, I know what it’s like to lie awake at night, wondering. Poring over every detail. But the truth is, Ella, The Group has already shared all the information about your parents with you. William and Rachel were brilliant. They were devoted to The Group and our work. To justice. Ultimately, tragically, they died for the cause. But their loss wasn’t in vain. Because now we have you.’
Standing up, he opened his arms wide and pulled Ella suddenly and unexpectedly into a hug. Ella allowed herself to be held. Closing her eyes she decided he smelled of expensive aftershave … and bullshit.
‘If I could tell you more, I would,’ he assured her, his breath warm against her ear. ‘But there’s nothing more to tell. You know what I know, Ella. Believe me.’
‘Believe me.’
All the way to the airport for her flight back to San Francisco, Redmayne’s parting words rang in Ella’s ears. While she was waiting at the gate, and walking on to the passenger ramp, and taking her seat. And still now, as she sat with her face pressed to the plastic window, staring down at a blanket of cloud so thick it looked solid, like a celestial snowdrift, she heard them:
‘Believe me.’
‘Believe me.’
‘Believe me.’
Then she thought about his emails with Katherine MacAvoy.
In your view, then, the deception has been successful?
Yes, sir. EP unaware, you are good to go tomorrow. Good luck.
The bastard was going to need more than luck when she found out whatever it was he’d been hiding. Something about Athena. Or Ella’s mother. Or both.
She would rejoin The Group. But from now on, until she learned the truth, Ella would consider herself a double agent. Her new ‘mission’ was to get to the bottom of Redmayne’s deception. And to find Gabriel.
Gabriel.
She missed him.
Running a hand through her newly regrown hair, Ella felt immensely tired suddenly. Tired and sad and lonely. She tried to picture Gabriel in London – was he really there? In his hotel room or out pounding the streets? But his image eluded her. As if, even in her imagination, she was losing him.
What if I never see him again?
Closing her eyes, she pushed the thought away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘It’s good to see ya again, kiddo.’
Jim Newsome warmed his hands around the steaming mug of coffee that the waitress had just poured him, still cold from the chill morning air outside, and beamed at Ella.
‘It’s good to see you too, Mr Newsome.’
Last week had seen the first full frost in Paradise Valley, the landscape turned as stiff as the old rancher’s knee joints. Benny’s Diner, the only option for a hot breakfast on Prospect Road, was doing a roaring trade. Every booth was filled when Jim walked in, but a group of young ranch hands gladly gave up their seats for Mimi Praeger’s old neighbor. Everybody in the valley liked and respected Jim Newsome, even the ones who had fallen foul of his wife’s sharp tongue. When Ella walked in a few minutes later, greeting the rancher like an old friend, all eyes turned to look at the pretty, elfin young woman in black corduroy pants and a bottle green turtleneck.
Ella
sat down and a second cup of coffee magically appeared, so thick and strong you could have eaten it with a spoon.
‘I was surprised to get your call,’ she told Jim.
‘Yes, well …’ Newsome muttered something incomprehensible and looked down awkwardly at his napkin. ‘Maybe I should-a called you sooner. I wasn’t sure what to do for the best, you see.’
Ella reassured him that she understood his predicament perfectly. It turned out Mimi had written him a letter, which he received from her attorney about a month after her funeral, entrusting some ‘personal items’ to his care for safekeeping. ‘They were my son’s things, mostly,’ she wrote, ‘and though I wouldn’t want them destroyed, I also don’t want Ella to be upset by them. Perhaps, in the future, if Ella marries, they could go to her children? But I trust you to handle that, Jim. Just keep them safe and dry and use your best judgment. With all good wishes, Mimi Praeger.’