She was in a cab, on the way home, when Tillman called her on her cell. The day before, he’d given her the number of a new burner he was using, and in the time since, she’d committed the number to memory, so she knew right away it was him. She knew as well that he wouldn’t call without a reason.
She hit Answer. ‘It’s two a.m.’
‘Yeah, well, we need to talk about something.’
‘At two a.m.?’
‘We might have a problem.’
‘And this can’t wait until morning?’
‘It’s about Travis.’
Her breath caught. ‘What about him?’
‘And it’s about Axel too.’
She tried to retain her composure. ‘Okay.’
‘Maybe it’s better if we do this in person.’
That meant it was big and potentially messy. She felt herself tense, then tried to think of the best place to meet. She didn’t want Tillman at her house. As much as possible, she tried to avoid being seen with him, especially now. She’d worked her ass off to land the new job. The last thing she needed was questions being asked about her judgement when she’d barely got her feet under the desk. She said, ‘I thought all of this shit was sorted.’
‘It was a sticking plaster, that’s all. I always told you that.’ Tillman was on edge. She could hear it in his voice. ‘And now I find out that Travis is back working cold cases. Have you got any idea how fucking dumb that is?’
‘The Louise Mason case is dead.’
‘And I guarantee you that, by bringing Travis back in from the cold, it’s not going to stay that way for long.’
‘I vetted the cold cases we gave him.’
‘You just don’t get it, do you? Travis isn’t some asshole. He’s smart. He knows what he’s doing. And you’ve just given him access to the system.’
She felt a shiver of panic.
‘I told you from the start. What we did that night with Axel, it was just to stem the flow. Sooner or later, this was going to come back and bite us on the ass. Axel is a big problem. He’s always been a problem.’
She closed her eyes. She’d known this day was coming – Tillman himself had warned her the last time they’d met in person, on the bench at the end of Pier 15. But even though she’d asked for a delay that time, and Tillman had honoured it, she knew there could be no delay this time. It was inevitable.
When she opened her eyes again, in the window of the cab she briefly glimpsed a reflection of herself, phone to her ear. Except for her hair, she looked colourless, like a wraith, a pale, tortured soul, tethered to nothing.
No person. No home.
No family.
‘You think Travis knows about me?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘You think he knows who you are? Your details?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘How can you be so confident?’
‘Because I switched identities after the fundraiser.’
She glanced at the cab driver, suddenly aware that he would be able to hear her side of the conversation. She lowered her voice and said, ‘You never told me that. You switched the night of the fundraiser? Why?’
‘Why do you think?’
It was a stupid question.
They both knew what had happened that night.
‘The name “Nick Tillman” was confined to the trash the minute your precious Axel entered the picture.’ A damning silence, loaded with the weight of the last six months. ‘Axel is responsible. Axel is the reason we’re still running around, months down the line, trying to plug holes in the hull of this sinking ship. Axel is the issue here.’
She looked ahead of her, through the windshield of the cab, into the darkness of the Holland Tunnel.
It was like a mouth about to swallow her up.
‘Tillman, I know this has to be done but –’
‘Hain,’ came the response. ‘From now on, you can just call me Hain.’