Page 14 of Undone

“Noah Reid?” The way Agent Roberts’s tone was clipped and direct made it clear this wasn’t a social visit.

“Um… yes,” I replied, my hands playing with the edge of my sleeve.

My mind raced, running through every possible reason the FBI might want something from me. But I couldn’t come up with a single answer.

The woman, Agent Garcia, gave me a reassuring nod before she added, “Can we come in?”

I blinked, feeling thrown offbalance, but I stepped aside without thinking. “Uh… sure?”

Agent Roberts stepped into the apartment first, his sharp gaze sweeping over the space, taking in every detail. His movements were calculated, deliberate. He didn’t even look at me as he strode toward the kitchen bar stools. He gestured to one of the chairs.

“Take a seat,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated for a split second before obeying, perching on the stool. The leather was cold against my skin, sending an involuntary shiver up my spine. I clasped my hands tightly in my lap, my heart thudding in my chest.

“What’s going on?” I asked, the words tight, my grip on calm slipping.

Agent Garcia stepped forward, her tone softer but no less direct. “We are here to ask you about John Cunningham.”

John? Why did they want to know about John?

“Um… John? He’s my boyfriend,” I said. “I haven’t heard from him in three days.” My stomach twisted as the reality of my own words sank in. I swallowed hard. “He’s not… dead, is he?”

Agent Garcia’s expression didn’t change, but her response was quick, steady. “We don’t have a reason to believe that, no.”

“So… what’s going on then?” I asked, shifting on the barstool, my fingers gripping the edge.

“What can you tell us about him?” she asked. Her prior warmth was gone. It was the kind of voice that demanded honesty without a hint of aggression. Agent Garcia’s pen hovered over her notepad.

I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting together in my lap. “Well… He usually texts me at least once a day. Even when he’s busy, he keeps me updated.” My voice wavered further, threatening to crack completely. I felt a wave of confusion building, the knot in my stomach tightening as I forced myself to meet their unrelenting gazes.

I reached into my pocket, retrieving my phone with unsteady hands. Pulling up our text conversation, I turned the screen toward them, the faint glow illuminating the tension etched on their faces.

John

I may not be home for Thanksgiving.

Me

Okay… why not?

Can you at least let me know what is going on?

Are you really going to ignore me? What the hell is going on?

You need to call me. This is insane. You’re an adult John you can’t just ignore your girlfriend.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Agent Roberts asked, his tone measured.

“Monday when he left town,” I answered. “What exactly are you accusing him of?” I leaned forward despite the chill crawling up my spine.

Agent Roberts’ eyes narrowed, but then Agent Garcia stepped in. “We’re gathering information right now. His recent activities raised some… red flags, and we need to confirm a few things.”

“What kind of red flags? I’ve known John for half my life. He’s never…” My voice faltered. “I don’t understand.”

Garcia’s expression didn’t waver. “Sometimes, people hide things from the people closest to them.”

The next hour was a nonstop interrogation, their questions coming at me like a rapid-fire barrage.What’s John like? How did we meet? Has he been acting strange lately? What’s his schedule like?By the time they were done, the only thing they hadn’t asked was what side of the bed he slept on.

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