Little White Lies

“Let it go, Charley.” James whispered the words. “Let it go.”

“But-” She whispered back.

James returned his gaze to Wyatt’s. “It’s okay.”

Her entire form trembled again-the smallest of movements but a shimmer nonetheless.

“Wha-” Wyatt began but James stopped him with a shake of his head.

James held her tight in his arms with an intimacy Wyatt expected of lovers. As he watched, the blonde hair he’d let fall through his fingers like rain disappeared. An ink-black hue took over.

This cannot be happening.

Wyatt took a step backward but stopped at James’s defiant glare.

Charley’s breath calmed but broke in fits and spurts. With each intake, more change took shape. The side of her face stretched; her fingers shrunk, as did her legs. She no longer fit in the silver-blue outfit she’d walked in with; it hung from her frame like cooked spaghetti.

He watched the woman he’d met hours before-who’d become someone else for him-return.

“Get over here.” James’s clipped command hit him.

Wyatt hesitated.

“Now!” The man had a boom of a voice.

Wyatt scrambled close.

He shifted Charley toward Wyatt. “Just hold her. Up, down, whatever, just keep her in your arms.”

Wyatt hesitated again, and James shook his head as he moved Charley’s limp body into Wyatt’s arms. Her long dark hair draped across his forearm.

“What do I do?”

“Just hold her. She needs calm and rest after something that drastic.” James began to walk to the other room.

“How long?” Wyatt looked up at him.

“Does it matter?”

He shook his head as James left, dragged himself to the edge of the bed, and sat with her in his lap. One finger stroked Charley’s forehead, twisted in a length of one of her curls. Asleep? Unconscious? He didn’t know, but in his arms, she reminded him of a girl he’d known and lost. Her laugh, her touch, and the feel of her skin under his fingertips-all reminded him of her.

“Wyatt?” She whispered through parted lips with her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

14

Bags in hands, four of them boarded the jet. Cael took what would have been Wyatt’s seat with Lily leaning into his shoulder, her hand cupped in his.

Two hours and they’d land on their home turf, where Detectives would meet them.

Charley leaned back in her seat. James’s palm landed on knees she’d pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured.

“If anything has-”

“Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t not.”

“I know,” he said as Lily sniffed again.

***

Wyatt had watched her leave. James had told him to keep in touch and offered a simple handshake. Yet, a fifteen-hour adventure, a kiss to end the world and out of his life forever? No way. If nothing else, Wyatt vowed to appease his curiosity. With Stuart, he had more at stake. He’d toed the company line-or government one-with each of his questions. Sure enough, Stuart did work for the FBI-two departments and a few levels down from Wyatt.

The red LCD blinked three thirty as Stuart’s head lolled again. “I told you…” His words garbled with sleep and a drug-induced stupor.

Wyatt sat across from Stuart on the edge of the bed so they could converse. “Why are you here?” He had grilled him with the question already four times.

Stuart’s head lolled again. “Fol-follow up.” He sat bound to the chair.

After a thorough interrogation, Kevin had provided all the information Wyatt needed for his trip, so he’d sedated him and moved him to the bed with Candie. Come morning, he’d find himself in an interesting situation and could conjure his own excuses from there.

“Who’s Charley?” Wyatt asked Stuart.

“Charley?” Stuart mumbled back.

With Stuart half conscious, Wyatt wondered if he’d get the answers he sought.

“You met her at Mind Benders.”

“No idea.”

“Who am I?” Wyatt asked.

“Dunno.” Stuart gibbered as his head drooped.

With a sigh, Wyatt stood and walked to the dresser. From a black case, he pulled a syringe and a vial of clear liquid.

I’ve always hated this part.

With only a side lamp for illumination, he flipped the container upside down and inserted the syringe, pulled the transparent fluid until it reached the first line, popped it off, and set it back in its storage case. Needle to the sky, Wyatt pressed with his thumb and thumped it twice.

Here we go-for real this time.

He returned to Stuart’s side, grabbed one arm, and jabbed the needle through Italian silk into his shoulder. With one quick press, he released the drug to do its work.

Stuart jerked upright in the chair and would have fallen had James not bound him so well. He shook his head and squinted as Wyatt turned on the overhead light.

The two stared at each other-Stuart’s eyes, wide with shock and disbelief, Wyatt with controlled indignation, his arms crossed, legs at shoulder width.

“Wyatt?” Stuart’s head jerked.

Wyatt stepped closer. “Stuart.”

“Wha-what’s going on?” He shook his head.

“That’s what I get to ask.”

Stuart’s head shifted to the right, left, around the room, at the ties that bound him and back to Wyatt.

“Untie me?”

“No.”

“What’d I do?”

What didn’t you do? Wyatt let Stuart’s question hang. “Who do you work for?” He figured he’d recap to see if any of the answers changed.

“The United States Gov-”

“Which branch?” He jumped to the next question to cut off any opportunity for well-constructed fabrications.

“FBI-”

“Which department?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Wyatt grabbed Stuart’s collar and leaned down to his face.

Stuart turned his head away. “I can’t say.”