Sounds Like Deception (Sounds Like 2)

“There is a classified situation we need to discuss. My understanding is that Agent Hart has been debriefed. Because of the high level of intelligence being discussed, you will have access to certain briefings. This is one of those briefings.”

I didn’t know if he was about to identify Jack. Maybe he knew Beechum’s identity. Any of those would be a win. Taking down the dark web buyers and sellers was now one of my priorities. I realized how closely it all tied together with the stalker. I couldn’t easily separate one part of my life from another. Just like I couldn’t separate on the why I loved AJ then and the way I loved him now. They were interconnected.

That’s why when Agent Canson spoke his next words, it was if something had thrown a bucket of ice in my face. Hard, unrelenting cubes. Shards of frozen glass. His words had the same effect.

“Sydney, we need to talk about this woman. We need to talk about Farrah Hart.” His fingers lifted and I saw the face staring back at me from the photograph.

“What the fuck?” AJ barked. “No, Canson. Not now.” He slammed his fist on the table, raking the picture out of sight. “You son of a bitch.” He jumped up, grabbing Canson by the collar. He yanked him from the table.

I tried to get my bearings. I reached for the picture that had drifted to the floor. I held it in my hands. I saw the blond woman. She looked familiar, but too much was happening around me.

Canson was swinging his fists, trying to break free.

“AJ! Stop!”

The scuffle ceased for a second. My hands trembled.

“Wh-who was that?” I knew what I heard, but I also didn’t believe it. I didn’t trust myself. My instincts had been all over the place lately.

“No one,” AJ snapped. “No one,” he emphasized. “Give me the picture, Syd.” His hand was outstretched.

I looked between him and Canson. One of them was lying.

“AJ, who is this?”

Canson’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “Agent Hart, she doesn’t know about your wife?”

“Shut the fuck up, Canson.” AJ pushed the wiry agent into the kitchen wall.

“Wife? Did you say wife?” I looked at AJ. “What is he talking about? You’re married? You have a wife? This woman is your wife?”

AJ held up his hands as if I was a scared baby deer. As if he could coax me into a tranquil state. “No. Stop. Stop right there. I do not. This was the conversation I wanted to have with you tonight. But not like this. Syd, you weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

I pushed back from the table, almost knocking my chair to the floor. There was nowhere to go. I wanted to run on the sidewalk and escape into the French Quarter. I’d buy a cheap Mardi Gras mask and get lost in the crowd. I’d pull money from the ATM and take a cab out of the city. I’d hitchhike if I had to. I wanted to be anywhere but here. But I was locked in this damn safe house.

Agent Canson was rambling. I couldn’t listen to him. I couldn’t block the sound of his voice. I ran into the bedroom. AJ was on my heels before I could lock the door.

The adrenaline pumped through my veins. The anger shot through my muscles.

He grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me.”

I blinked as the tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. “You’re married,” I whispered. “This entire time you kept it from me. You kept your marriage from me.”

“No, Syd. I’m not married. I was.” He sighed. “Damn it, I’ve tried to talk to you about this. I’ve wanted to tell you the story. Look at me.”

My eyes lifted to his as the first heavy tear drop rolled down my cheek.

“Where is she?” I gritted my teeth. “Where is your wife?”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, Syd. Farrah’s dead.”