When they made it down to the lake, they had a clear view of the homes perched on the foothills in front of them. The female agent slipped her rucksack off her shoulders and unzipped the top. She removed a long-range Nikon camera with a telescopic lens and had the focus adjusted perfectly by the time her partner joined her.
“How are those new boots treating you?” she asked.
“Like my ex-wife.”
She raised her right eyebrow and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Nasty and unforgiving,” he said.
“Get your gear out and start looking at birds,” she said.
The male agent unzipped his own rucksack and pulled out birdwatching binoculars that looked as innocuous as a child’s telescope. The female agent stood behind him for cover and pulled out a much more powerful pair of binoculars. She held them to her eyes and focused the lenses on the A-frame cabin across the lake. Perched at the top of a small hill, the high-range binoculars gave her the ability to see into the windows of the cabin from four hundred yards away.
The cabin’s nearest neighbor was ten acres to the north. The terrain on this side of the home consisted of a wooden deck and a long row of stairs that ran down to the water. A sycamore stood at the water’s edge, where a rope swing hung from a limb and teetered over the surface of the lake. The agent put the binoculars down and picked up the Nikon.
“Clear?” she asked.
Her partner took a moment to confirm that there were no eyes on them.
“Clear,” he said.
The female agent began snapping photos of the A-frame cabin, the lake, and the forested area on either side of the structure. The images would be used to organize the tactical raid the feds were planning on the isolated cabin. But they’d need a warrant before they could crash through the front door. To secure one, they would have to confirm that their subject was present inside, and prove to a judge that it was Garth Montgomery.
“Okay,” the female agent said, dropping the camera and binoculars back into the rucksack. “Let’s see how close we can get.”
CHAPTER 58
Manhattan, NY Thursday, July 8, 2021
AKNOTTED TOWEL WAS TWISTED ON THE TOP OF HER HEAD AND HELD her wet hair. Just out of the shower Thursday morning, Avery stood in front of the bathroom mirror in jeans and a bra, applying makeup while her mind worked to solve her many problems. Since her confrontation with Natalie Ratcliff the day before, the constant weight of worry sat in her stomach like an indigestible knot of fat and gristle that was sure to do serious harm to her insides. She and Natalie had gone over everything carefully, and spent the entire evening planning and discussing the possibilities. But no matter how they arranged things, there was one missing piece to the very complicated puzzle Avery was attempting to assemble. She was stuck until she figured it out, and she had very little time to do it.
She heard a knock on the door, and paused with the mascara brush an inch from her lashes. When a second knock came she screwed the applicator brush back into the container, walked to the door, and placed her eye to the peephole. Walt stood in the hallway and, despite her attire, she didn’t hesitate to pull the door open.
“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.