Twenty Years Later(90)

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as if he’d just taken a punch to the jaw.

Avery stood with her hands on her hips, her breasts covered only by her bra. She stared unblinking for a moment, then walked back into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. It was a full minute before she heard Walt’s voice.

“Hey,” he said through the door. “What’s going on?”

The last time he was in her hotel room, the bed had been covered with Victoria’s manuscripts. This morning, it was covered with the photos of Walt following her. She wanted him to see them. She wanted him to know that she knew.

“Avery,” he said again. “She was set up. Someone planted Victoria’s blood at the crime scene. And her urine. I have the evidence to prove it. The blood came from a . . . Do you use cotton tampons, by the way? Because if you do, you have to stop right away.”

Avery stood on the other side of the door, thoroughly confused. She wanted to answer him. She wanted to ask what it was he had discovered about Victoria, but she stopped herself from speaking. The Victoria Ford story had taken a backseat to her most pressing issue. More than anything, she wanted him to see the photos that were laid out on the bed. Eventually, she heard Walt close the hotel door. She listened to his footsteps as he walked into the room. She imagined him staring at the photos. It was another minute before she heard him back outside the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice. “We need to talk.”

She pulled the door open. “No shit.”

Avery walked past him. Walt followed but she made sure to stand on the other side of the bed so that the photos of him were between them. She raised a finger but paused before she spoke, gathering her thoughts and words.

“Did you sleep with me to get information about my family?”

“No,” Walt said with some force. “I slept with you because—”

She held up an opened palm to stop him from saying more. It worked.

“Was the story about Meghan even true?”

“Every word of it.”

“You promise me?”

“On my life.”

“Good. Then I need your help.”

Walt paused for a moment. “With what?”

Avery swallowed hard. “My father.”





PART V

The Long Game





CHAPTER 59


Manhattan, NY Thursday, July 8, 2021

THE FEDEX DROP BOX WAS LOCATED ON MADISON AVENUE, BETWEEN Fifty-Seventh and Fifty-Eighth Streets. The final pickup was at 3:00 p.m. Avery clutched the overnight envelope to her chest as she left the Lowell and headed south. Her gaze swept across the sidewalks and to the other side of the street, trying desperately to notice if anyone was following her or something out of the ordinary that would stop her from dropping the package off. When she came to the drop box an undefined sense of apprehension made her continue on.

She crossed Fifty-Seventh Street and entered the atrium of Trump Tower. She strode through the lobby and rode the escalator to the upper level, keeping an eye on the entrance as she did. People came and went, but none seemed the least bit concerned with Avery. At the top of the escalator, she walked to the edge of the railing and watched the entrance for several minutes. When she was convinced that no one was following her, she stepped onto the descending escalator and rode to the lobby. She walked back outside, turned right, and crossed Fifty-Seventh Street again. This time, when she came to the drop box, she quickly pulled open the slot. Just before dropping the FedEx package into it, she checked the address label one last time.



Connie Clarkson

922 Hwy 42

Sister Bay, Wisconsin

(Cabin #12)





She released her grip and the parcel fell into the darkness. Inside was the passport belonging to Aaron Holland, and detailed instructions to follow.





CHAPTER 60


Manhattan, NY Friday, July 9, 2021

HE MADE THE CALL LATE THURSDAY NIGHT. HE MADE IT FROM Avery’s hotel room after he and Avery had had a long, hard discussion. It covered not only what had transpired between them over the last week—the real feelings that had developed, and the sorrow Walt felt for the way he had betrayed her—but also what Avery was hoping to accomplish and how it would all work. If it would all work.

The plan now hinged on Walt, and how convincing he could be. The person he called sounded surprised to hear from him, and his request to meet for breakfast Friday morning was met with bewilderment.

“I need to see you,” was all Walt said.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yes.”

They settled on a breakfast place on the Upper East Side. Walt sat nervously in the booth and stirred two creams into his coffee, closing his eyes for a moment as he remembered Avery’s strange talent of noticing his coffee predilections. There was something reassuring about Avery knowing his tendencies. No woman had held details about him, intimate or otherwise, for years.

He caught sight of her outside, just a blur as she streaked past the window beside him. Through the blinds, he watched her walk along the sidewalk toward the front of the restaurant. He waited for the normal feelings she elicited in him to materialize. Expected them, in fact. But the usual rush of anger did not come. Nor did the bitter sense of resentment emerge. Even the heartache that went hand in hand with seeing her was gone, replaced this morning with a calm contentment. Things, he knew, would be okay.