Page 79 of Enigma
“Sounds like a plan.” Olive nodded, hating to be confined here. But she understood why it was important.
As everyone scrambled to get moving, Olive stood.
She needed to make a phone call.
She slipped into one of the bedrooms, pulled out her phone, and scrolled to Tom Greer’s contact. Her finger hovered over the Call button as she tried to figure out how to ask the question that had been eating at her since Simon’s revelation.
The phone rang twice before Tom’s familiar voice answered. “Olive? Everything all right? You don’t usually call twice in one week.”
“Hi, Tom. I’m actually in Texas right now, and I need to ask you something that’s going to sound crazy.”
“Crazier than usual?”
Despite everything, Olive almost smiled. “Much crazier. Tom, when my family was murdered, you were the agent who handled the scene, right? You identified the bodies?”
A pause. “That’s correct. Olive, where is this going?”
“I need to know . . .” She took a deep breath before plunging in headfirst. “I need to know if there’s any possibility my mother survived that night. Any possibility at all that the woman identified as Margot Sterling wasn’t actually Margot Sterling—or whatever her real name is?”
The silence on the other end of the line stretched so long that Olive wondered if the call had dropped.
Finally, Tom spoke, his voice careful and measured. “Why are you asking me this question?”
The fact that he hadn’t answered raised all kinds of red flags. “Because I think she might be alive. I think she might be involved in something that got my father and sisters killed, and now she’s coming for me.”
Silence stretched across the line.
“Tom?” Olive pressed. “Please. I need to know the truth.”
He took a deep breath. “Olive, the scene was . . . traumatic. There was significant damage to the bodies, and we had to rely on physical characteristics, clothing, jewelry . . .”
“But you’re certain it was her?”
Another pause. “At the time, yes. But now that you’re asking . . .” Tom’s voice grew more troubled. “Can you send me that photograph you mentioned? The one of the woman you think might be your mother?”
Olive quickly texted him the surveillance image Simon had sent her.
Then she waited, listening to Tom’s breathing as he presumably studied the photo.
“Wow,” Tom muttered after a moment. “The resemblance is uncanny. Olive, I?—”
“You know something,” Olive interrupted. “I can hear it in your voice. What aren’t you telling me, Tom?”
“It’s complicated. There were aspects of your family’s case that never sat right with me, details that didn’t quite fit the narrative we constructed.” Tom’s voice carried the weight of old doubts. “But I need to make some calls. This isn’t something I can discuss over the phone.”
“Tom—”
“I found something!” Nova’s voice rang out in the other room, excitement and urgency clear in her tone.
“I have to go,” Olive said quickly. “But we need to finish this conversation. Soon.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. And Olive? Be careful. If your mother is alive and involved in what you’re investigating, then everything about your family’s murder needs to be reexamined.”
Olive ended the call and hurried back toward the rest of the group, where she saw Nova hunched over Elena’s phone, a triumphant expression on her face.
“What did you find?” Jason stood behind Nova, glancing at the phone.
“Messages about a shipment.” Nova continued to scroll through the decrypted data. “Look at this. It says, ‘Shipment arrives Tuesday at 0300 hours. Standard protocol for processing. Location Bravo as discussed.’”
