Too bad her being pissed off at me doesn’t have the same grudgeless effect.
Ally’s eyes slide to me, and I hold my reaction. Because what she just said would not have struck me strange except for the fact that after her little speech about having nothing to hide, she immediately looked to me for my reaction. She looked to me to see if I’m buying it. Body language speaks volumes and Ally’s body tells me way more than her words do.
I put my beer to my lips and move over to the grill to see how the food is coming along. I also do this so she starts thinking she can let her guard down. Maybe a couple of those fruity drinks will help.
***
Two and a half hours later, I’m coming out of the bathroom, and she’s snuck out. All evening, Ally did her best to act casual about everything. But she’s been uncharacteristically quiet and fidgety, bad at trying to hide that she’s rattled. We watched the wedding video and I couldn’t take my eyes off her throughout it. Gorgeous. Radiating happiness for her best friend. Carefree. As soon as I went to the bathroom when it was over, she made her exit. Anything to avoid walking downstairs with me to her place.
Foiled. I’d hoped to continue a conversation in her apartment with some more of those vodka drinks she likes, see if she loosens up. See if things can get physical so I can get her guard down entirely.
I plan to stay at Aiden and Carly’s for one more drink, so she doesn’t think I’m rushing after her, but Carly starts yawning, so I down the rest of my drink, thank them for the great meal and good company, and bid them goodnight.
Before I go, Carly looks me in the eye. “You’re right. She’s definitely afraid of something and hiding a whole lot. When I was in the bathroom earlier, I looked at her social media. She’s got nobody but San Diego people on there.”
I give her a tight smile.
“Not a soul from her life before here. If you assure me you’ve got good intentions with her, I’ll do what I can to help, Jude.”
“Don’t know where things’ll go with her and me, Carly, but I got nothin’ but good intentions, I swear it,” I vow.
“I want her happy. I want her carefree. She’s not. And I can’t believe I never noticed it before.”
I shake my head. “Don’t feel bad. You’ve seen what she’s wanted you to see. And she’s crazy about you. I’ve got the feeling she doesn’t wanna hurt you and felt bad tonight. Don’t worry. We’ll sort her out.”
She nods, but looks misty-eyed. Aiden puts his arm around her and kisses her temple and they walk me to the door and say goodnight.
When I get downstairs, of course the apartment is quiet and her bedroom door is shut.
I decide it’s the time to do a dig on Allison Kingston from Baltimore. Not a deep one, just a light search for starters. Now that I’m officially working for Carmichael Consulting in a project where Quentin Carmichael wants background checks on every employee they’ve hired in the past two years, I’m not technically breaking my golden rule.
I go into the bedroom and open my laptop.
A light look tells me nothing, so I go a layer deeper.
And surprise, surprise. Alison “Ally” Kingston of Baltimore, Maryland with the birth date and social security number she gave her employers does not fucking exist. There are also no Baltimore cold cases (or closed cases) in the timespan of her being fourteen (or thirteen or even fifteen) that match any dead Caucasian male taxi drivers who died from a stab wound.
She also lied in her resume about her graphic design degree. The school doesn’t exist.
14
Ally
Tuesday Evening:
Carly and Aiden left the office without me with married couple plans, so I went home with Pigpen with a plan to do nothing. Or a desire to do nothing, but anger about the fact that the Jude wildcard in my apartment might prevent that. When I get home to an empty apartment, I feel relief.
I want to sit and veg, do nothing but relax, but I don’t have that luxury with my roommate situation, so I start off checking my mail.
Ooh. I forgot about this box coming – my new nanny cam. It’s a little brown bear with a pink daisy on it and the camera is inside the flower. Set-up turns out to be easy peasy, so once that’s done, I decide to do a little bit of snooping.
He hasn’t hung any clothes or used any dresser drawers, just left a gym bag of clothes on the dresser and there’s a pile on the one nightstand of his dirty laundry. The bed is sloppily made, but made nonetheless and there’s a pair of his lounge pants and a half inside-out t-shirt sitting at the bottom.