A Beautiful Lie (Playing with Fire #1)(87)

Garrett slid his fingertips softly down the side of her face as the light turned green. Parker turned away from him and stared out her window, opening her memories for the first time without the fog of anger.



Numb.



That had been the only way to describe how Annabelle felt. Every time she turned the corner, she saw a student or two crying over the loss of Lacie. No one knew her, not really. With a campus this size it was impossible to know everyone. Just the idea that one of their own had died right there on campus, in her own dorm room, was enough to send people into a tailspin. There were brightly colored flyers handed out about grief counseling sessions: Join us! Share your grief with those who understand! The exclamation marks lured you in and made you think it sounded like a good time. Candlelight vigils and piles of flowers, pictures and stuffed animals were left outside of Lacie’s door. Students who had never spoken to one another before but shared a table in Art History class for three semesters were hugging and talking about all of the memories they had of a girl they never knew.

It had been two days since Annabelle had found Lacie lying in a pool of her own blood in the middle of her bed. Two days and she had yet to cry. Lacie had been her friend, her only friend, and she was incapable of mourning her loss. Strangers were gathering after dark to sing and say prayers, and Annabelle couldn’t even scrape up one tear for the girl who kicked through her defenses and made her feel normal.

Annabelle walked along the sidewalk in between the Arts and Humanities building and the cafeteria. She was busy counting the cracks in the sidewalk and avoiding the stares of people who knew she was the girl that found Lacie, so she didn’t notice the black sedan with tinted windows following her at a crawling pace on the street to her left.

Her head jerked up at the sound of a car door opening and the voice of Brad Richmond, the CIA agent who had recruited her. She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she signed on with them. He left messages on her cell phone every couple of days with a time and place to go for training, which was the extent of their communication.

Seeing him now, standing beside the open car door, the man who may have had a hand in ending the life of her one and only friend made her blood boil.

“Get in the car , Miss Parker.”

She stood there staring at him with her hands clenched at her sides. She didn’t want to make a scene. It was early afternoon and hundreds of students were out on campus, but it took everything in her not to scream at the man standing with the car door open and a casual look on his face like it was just another day.

Several minutes passed where neither one said a word. Agent Richmond finally gave in when he realized Annabelle wasn’t budging and people were starting to notice the unmarked car with windows so dark you couldn’t see inside.

“Please, Agent Parker.”

The use of her title, even though she hadn’t earned it yet, made Annabelle bristle. It was like he was trying to tell her she had importance, that she had control over what would happen if she stepped into that car or that she mattered and her being an agent would guarantee she would be okay.

He was subtly reminding her that she belonged to them.

Annabelle walked over to the curb and got inside the car without another glance in his direction. Agent Richmond got in after her, and as soon as he closed the door, the car took off and he closed the divider between the driver and them. Annabelle stared out of the side window, refusing to face the man next to her.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, Annabelle.”

She clenched her teeth together to keep the screams from spilling out. She opened her mouth loud enough to whisper the one question she had.

“Why?”

She heard Agent Richmond shift in his seat beside her, obviously frustrated that she refused to meet his gaze.

“We thought it was best to clean up the mess. To avoid anything tainting your career or getting back to those who only recently released your father from his debts. You have no idea what people like that would do with this kind of information.”

Annabelle closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. She’d only had a few weeks of training, but she’d learned on the first day how to cut off a man’s air supply by hitting a certain spot on his windpipe with the heel of her hand.

Lacie’s death had officially been ruled a suicide. Her family, even though they had been nonexistent in her life, now believed their daughter had taken her own life. They were wallowing in grief and shame all because of these people.

“If the Capuano family found out that someone wanted to prove a point to you by killing one of your friends, they wouldn’t hesitate to partner up with them and make your life a living hell,” Agent Richmond told her. “That’s something you need to always remember, Annabelle. For right now, it’s safer for all involved that everyone thinks she died from suicide.”

Annabelle’s head whipped around at his words, which sounded strangely threatening. Was he telling her that the CIA would work with the Capuano’s? That they’d keep the secret of Lacie’s death from the mob, but at any moment that could change and she could be targeted by them? He was telling her that she should always remember the control the CIA had over her.

“We know this is a bit shocking for you right now, and we are using all of our resources to make sure that from now on we know absolutely everything. The cover-up used in her death is so airtight, it’s almost unbelievable,” Agent Richmond had said with a shake of his head and a raise of his eyebrows, like he almost couldn’t believe how good his precious CIA was.