He was granted a short reprieve as their drinks and a basket of the pub’s hand-cut potato chips arrived. Lying was critical to his success here. It was absolutely essential to keeping her safe and finding the culprits behind the threats. So why was he fighting it so hard?
He steered the conversation to simpler topics while he stewed over his predictable nature. This need for attachment and approval had been a problem for as long as he could remember.
He understood it was a product of being an orphan with no clear understanding of his real past. Making up his history had been amusing and no one knew enough to correct his theories. Some days he’d been the son of humble farmers, other days he had superhero blood in his veins.
In no small measure, he’d found a working solution as one of Director Casey’s Specialists. He’d become part of a professional family where the past didn’t matter. Together, learning from the best operatives and support techs, they’d been able to accomplish tasks other law enforcement teams couldn’t.
Now he was out here on his own. An island once more. Casey had asked him to think this through. Riley wondered if his mentor had anticipated this sort of emotional blowback.
“What’s bothering you?”
He looked up from his plate into Abby’s concerned face. “Just thinking about my parents,” he said. It was true enough. Being an adult didn’t change his curiosity about where he’d come from. “You’re right. They would be proud of the work I’ve done here.”
She smiled. “Will you invite them?”
“You just want more tourist traffic,” he teased. “I’ve sent pictures. They don’t travel much this time of year.” Riley didn’t want to think about the kind of failure that would bring his professional parent, Thomas Casey, to Belclare.
“You’ll have to let me know what they think.”
“Sure.”
From her purse, he heard her phone chime. “Do you have them send those 24/7?”
“Right now I do. Just a traffic dispatch.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I’m worried about this weekend. We received threats against specific targets today.”
“They damn well better not mess with our display in the park. I worked hard on that.”
Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The park. The police station. The docks. Homeland Security called me again, but I don’t have anything new to tell them.”
“If they’re so worried, they should send you some manpower.”
Her eyes went wide and her head bobbed up and down. “That’s what I said. Belclare citizens check out. I know it has to be someone close, but I’ve turned over every stone and double-checked every rumor. We aren’t getting closer.”
“You will.”
“After what happened to Calder...well, I can’t help but think of worst-case scenarios.”
“That’s natural.”
“I know. Deke’s publicity efforts likely saved opening weekend, but I don’t want some sick group turning the happy crowds into victims and ruining everything.”
He reached over and caught her hand. “People are resilient. Even if the worst happens, the town will rally behind you.”
“More likely they’ll rally with cheers and confetti at my going-away party.”
“I don’t believe that. Everyone I talk to likes you.”
She narrowed her gaze, assessed him. “You’re lying.”
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say they liked your victory speech.”
“Nice,” she said, pulling her hand away as if she just realized they were touching. In public.
“I don’t know much about your line of work, but if you ever need someone to bounce theories off, I can listen.”
“Thanks.”
He heard the sincerity in that single word and wished he could offer her more assurances. His own searches into the backgrounds of those who were most outspoken hadn’t turned up any clear connection to known terrorists.
Everyone at the top said this was a sleeper cell. If it was true, whoever they’d planted here in Belclare had been provided with a rock-solid cover. He didn’t care for the grim parallel that made to his situation. The food arrived and he decided to forget work long enough for them to actually enjoy what they’d come here for—dinner.
“Great.” She stared at her phone, looking like someone had sucker punched her.
“More trouble?” His senses went on alert.
“You could say that. They found a match for the DNA on my snow shovel.”
“Can you talk about it?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” She swiped at her phone, then raised her blue eyes to meet his. “It appears to have been used against a guy with a long and impressive rap sheet.”