Sounds Like Deception (Sounds Like Series Book 2) Read online

  I’d never shared my recordings with anyone. It seemed silly to be nervous, considering my podcast would be broadcast on a wide platform, but I wasn’t supposed to sit next to the audience. That’s not how it worked.

  I sounded tense when I was outside Ethan’s house. I cringed when I heard him slam the door in my face after refusing to help me. I hadn’t decided if I was brave or desperate to return after that, but I listened to all of it. Just until the part when Ethan finally agreed to talk to me. I hit the pause button and looked for AJ.

  His broad back was to me. He was still wearing his gun. I wondered if he’d take if off ever again. He shifted from one leg to the other.

  I wanted him to hear for himself that Ethan Howard wasn’t nefarious. In fact, he had been kind and a little protective. I thought slightly paternal if I analyzed our conversation. There was something comforting in his Texas drawl. This was my opportunity to relive it and see if my gut instincts about him were right.

  AJ pivoted. The phone call ended. “The first team arrived at the scene. There are no explosives in either of our vehicles.”

  “Oh, that’s good news. What was it then?”

  “The cables were sliced under the hood. The New Orleans unit has taken the cars in as evidence.”

  “But no,” I protested. “I just bought that car. They can’t have it.” I didn’t trust anyone else to take care of it.

  “You’ll get it back. It might take some time.”

  “And the barn?” I asked.

  He shook his head, walking toward the bed. “That’s going to take longer. They will analyze for prints and DNA. They’ll do the same thing inside the house, canvassing that wall. They are going to remove it and take it to the office.”

  “Take the wall apart?” I was surprised.

  “They want everything.”

  I looked at the USB port. That meant they were going to confiscate my recordings as well. It was time I make the backups.

  “I’ve queued up the interview with Ethan. Are you ready?”

  AJ flicked the bourbon in his glass. “Yes.”

  “All right. This is from Saturday evening. I went back for another visit. He didn’t want to talk to me the first time I knocked on his door, and I usually give everyone two tries before I give up.” I wondered how much of this AJ already knew from observing me. “He seemed more open to it and eventually let me inside to talk. He even agreed to let me use our conversation in the podcast. I was kind of surprised.”

  “Then let’s hear what he had to say.” AJ’s brows knitted together.

  I unplugged the headset in order for the sound to play through the speakers. I hit play.

  “Thanks for talking to me about my mom.”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “That’s on now?”

  “Yes. We’re recording. You’re still ok with this, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Ok. Great. I’m recording, so we can get started with the interview.”

  “All right. What do you want to ask me, darlin’?”

  “First, I’d like to know what made you change your mind about talking to me. You didn’t seem happy when I showed up this morning. I was wondering if that was because of my mom. Is there a history you share with her that is uncomfortable? Something I should know about it?”

  “No. No, not really. I don’t always like to talk about that time in my life. You know college is a beast for a young buck. But after you left I looked for one of my old photo albums. I got to thinking about what you said. I did find a picture of Penny Neworth.”

  “You did?”

  “Hold on, it’s on the dining room table. I’ll get it.”

  There were footsteps that faded then grew louder again.

  “Here it is. It was a group picture the RA took at the end of fall semester. That’s her in the back row.”

  “But you can’t see her face. It’s so blurry.”

  “Sorry. It was 1990. It was taken regular film. There was no such thing as a digital camera. And it’s been under plastic for twenty-eight years. But that was her, the one smiling.”

  “Thanks for showing it to me.”

  “Of course.”

  “Can you tell me what my mom was like? Do you have any stories about her?”

  There was a long pause.

  “It was a long time ago and I don’t have the best memory when it comes to college.”

  “But you do remember Penny Neworth? Enough to point her out in a group photo.”

  “I do. Pretty girl. Very pretty girl. She could have been a model. She had a nickname actually.”

  “She did? I haven’t heard that before. What was it?”

  “She had this mark. I guess girls call it a beauty mark. You know over her lip. Cindy Crawford was big back then. You know the model? And with the dark hair, it just kind of fit her. A lot of people called her Cindy.”

  “Not Penny?”

  “She went by either one. It was just a nickname. I don’t know if she liked it or not. I never used it. I stuck with Penny, but maybe someone else you might talk to might remember her as Cindy.”

  “Thanks, that might be really helpful. I guess it’s kind of cute. Cindy?”

  “Yeah, a lot of people called her Cindy.”

  “What else do you remember other than her good looks?”

  “She was quiet. Most of the time. Not all the time.”

  “Did she study a lot?”

  “I don’t remember. Sorry. It didn’t seem like she was around all that much. But I wasn’t either. I played club soccer. I was at practice most days. But we passed each other in the hall. I saw her on campus. We’d say hi.”

  “You mentioned there were times when she wasn’t quiet? What was she doing? Who was she with?”

  “Other girls I think.”

  “What about any guys? Who was she dating?”

  “I didn’t know her like that. I saw her with guys I guess, but it wasn’t like I asked who anybody was. It was college. People were in and out of the dorm. We said hi. I recognized people from class. You went to college, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Then you know you don’t commit everything to memory. Some people are there for the party. Some go to study or to play sports. No one is a private investigator. Not like what you’re doing now.”

  “I realize it sounds like that, but it’s because I’m trying to piece things together. I’m trying to gauge how well you knew her. How many conversations did you two have do you think?”

  “Enough for me to remember her. Not enough to give you what you want.”

  “There must be something that stood out. Something other than her looks.”

  “I agreed to do this because you seem like a sweet girl. And I do remember Penny, but I don’t think I have the information you need.” There was a long pause. “What if Penny Neworth doesn’t want to be found?”

  “I guess I’ll ask her about that when I get to the end of this.”

  “But maybe you should stop.”

  “Why? Why would I stop looking for her?”

  “You could be doing this for a long time. Don’t you have other things you could be doing with your time? You seem like a talented girl. You’re doing this radio thing.”

  “Podcast.”

  “Right, whatever you call it. Why don’t you do a different one and move on? Are you a writer or something?”

  “I don’t want to move on. I want to find her. I’m going to keep talking to people who knew her until I do.”

  “It seems like a lot of work to track down someone who isn’t trying to track you down.”

  “It is, but how do I know she hasn’t tried to find me? My adoption was closed. She wouldn’t know my name or my adoptive parents. I’ve considered all these things, Ethan.”

  “I admire your guts, darlin’. You’ve got to have ‘em to keep doing something like this.”

  “Thank you. Is there anything you’d like to add before we finish?”

  �
�I think Penny was a good girl back then. I just want you to know that whether you ever find her or not. If she gave you up, it was for a good reason. It had to be.”

  “I appreciate that. Thanks for sitting down and answering my questions, Ethan.”

  The recording ended and my eyes lifted to AJ’s.

  “What happened after that?” he asked.

  “I gave Ethan my number and told him to text me if he remembered anything or heard from anyone in their class that might know something about her. Then I left. That was it.”

  “There is no more of the recording?”

  “No. That was it. You heard the entire thing from start to finish.”

  AJ looked frustrated. “But you didn’t ask him why it was a tough time for him. Why he didn’t like going back to those memories from college.”

  I huffed. “He said it wasn’t related to my mom so I moved on. It wasn’t the Ethan Howard interrogation show. That’s not how this works. It’s about Penny Neworth. It’s a show about my journey to find her. Not about his college heartbreak or hangovers or whatever drama a twenty-two-year old guy had in 1990.”

  “Sorry. It just seems like a missed opportunity there. I wish there was more.”

  “I do too. I’m sorry. That’s all I have from Ethan.” It seemed obvious when we played the conversation back that I should have pushed for more, but at the time it was a free flowing discussion, going from one topic to another. There was barely enough time to think on the fly. I was still honing my skills as an interviewer.

  “Until he texted you Monday morning?”

  I nodded. “Right. I left Saturday evening and there were no more communications from him until Monday morning.”

  “Can I see the text he sent?” he requested.

  I held up my phone and scrolled through the text messages until I landed on the one from Ethan. I was relieved that it hadn’t evaporated like the emails had.

  I passed my phone to AJ. “Here it is, the entire thing.”

  I waited while he read it.

  “Shit, Syd.”

  I tried to interpret his worry. “What? What is it?”

  “There’s no way this text came from Ethan Howard.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How do you know?” I asked. “What did you hear in that conversation that I didn’t?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think the forensics team is going to agree with me when they examine the evidence.”

  “Why?”

  Before he could respond, there was a heavy knock, interrupting the answer I needed. Our eyes darted to the door.

  “Agent Hart,” someone called from the other side. Another knock followed.

  “Hold on,” AJ groaned, hopping off the bed. “I can’t believe this.” He strolled to the door and whipped it open. “What is it, agent?”

  “Can you step into the hallway, sir? I have a sensitive message. It’s from the director.” He adjusted the earpiece cord trailing into the collar of his suit.

  “You can’t tell me now?” I heard the agitation in AJ’s voice.

  “No sir. It’s classified. I need you to step out of the suite.”

  “Damn it,” he muttered. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you ok with this, Syd?”

  I nodded. “It’s all right.” I wanted to hear why he didn’t think Ethan sent the text, but I understood there were pieces of information flying in rapidly. How did we know if the classified intelligence was a break in the case?

  “I’ll be right back. Some things can’t be relayed over phones,” he explained. “I’ll be in the hall. That’s it. If you need me I’m right outside.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I wanted to sound confident.

  I smiled. It seemed as if he finally understood that neither one of us liked the idea of being out of sight from the other. At least while hell was trying to consume us.

  I folded my legs beneath me and hit play on the recording again. I listened more intently this round. I wanted to hear what AJ heard. I wanted to know what it was that tipped him off. What didn’t match up with the conversation and the text? How was it so easy for AJ to identify it when he hadn’t met Ethan in person? Why didn’t I notice it Monday morning? It would have saved us both so much fear and pain. It was likely we wouldn’t be here now. We never would have been trapped in the farmhouse.

  I studied the text. I listened once more and then I heard it. The one word that should have tipped me off. It was in the text twice. I had two opportunities to see it and change my course of action. I shut the screen on my laptop, irritated with myself.

  I looked at the door, waiting for AJ to stroll back through. I wanted to tell him. How long had he been in the hall? I checked the time. It had to have been fifteen minutes. I dressed and dried my hair. The spa robe was comfortable, but if agents were going to walk in and out of the suite, I needed to be presentable.

  I chose a pair of soft gray pants and a white tank top from AJ’s bag. I had little to choose from.

  I checked the time again. Thirty minutes had passed and AJ was still in the hallway.

  I crossed the room. I didn’t like how this felt. I opened the door. One of the agents greeted me.

  “Ms. Miller, do you need something?”

  “Where is AJ?” I looked from one end of the hall to the other. It was empty.

  “Agent Hart is with one of the other agents receiving classified intel,” he answered.

  “I thought it was only supposed to take a few minutes,” I questioned.

  The agent crossed his hands in front of his waist. “It can take a while. You should wait in the suite.”

  I didn’t like his answer. “Where is he exactly?”

  “I can’t say, ma’am.”

  “Is he on this floor?” The tiny knots started in the lower part of my belly.

  “Again, I can’t say.”

  “Can you tell me if he’s in the hotel?” I pressured. The prickles under my skin didn’t feel good.

  “Why don’t you go back inside?”

  I glared at him. “Why don’t you tell me where Agent Hart is?”

  AJ wouldn’t have left me here. I knew he wouldn’t. There was a new understanding between us. One that transcended the hijacking. It was bigger than what happened in the farmhouse. I felt it.

  “Those are not my instructions.”

  “What are your instructions? I want to know. Exactly why can’t you tell me what I need to know? I’d like to see him. Now.”

  I looked up when I saw another agent step from the elevator. He was wearing a dark suit like the first agent. Non-descript designs with crisp white shirts and black ties. His earpiece was tucked close to his hairline.

  “Do you know where Agent Hart is?” I asked. Maybe he would be more helpful.

  “Ma’am, that’s classified.”

  “Classified?” My voice rose. “He is supposed to be here. Right here. You were here when he promised me that. I want to know if he has left the hotel. I want to where he is.”

  “You need to keep your voice down,” he cautioned. I didn’t like how gruff his response was.

  “Why? So the other guests at the Ritz-Carlton don’t know what you’ve done to one of your own agents? Where is he?”

  They walked forward, creating a barrier between the hall and me. I was blocked from leaving the suite. I took an involuntary step backward. I was a lot of things, but being brave enough to charge two armed FBI agents wasn’t one of them. They were both twice my size. It pissed me off.

  “You need to stay inside the suite, and when Agent Hart is done, you’ll know.”

  “Done with what?”

  “Stay inside.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not a prisoner. I can leave. I need to get out anyway. I’m low on outfits. There’s a boutique in the lobby.”

  Was it possible I could find AJ on my own? I just needed a way out of here so I could start looking.

  “You’re not leaving the suite anytime soon,” the first
agent informed me.

  “Says who?”

  But neither was willing to answer my questions. The door was pulled to and I was left with a gaping hole of worry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As soon as I spun on my heels and faced the empty bed, I noticed AJ’s phone on the side table. Shit. He didn’t have it on him. His drink rested next to it. I picked it up, inhaling the bourbon and melted ice. I had lost count of how many drinks I had consumed since we checked in. None of them seemed to warm or calm me. The buzz of toxic adrenaline still ran through my veins.

  I walked to the window and looked out over the river.

  I slid the balcony door open and stepped forward. Everything felt damp and humid after the storm. I couldn’t sit on the patio chairs. The cushions were water logged.

  “What am I going to do?” I whispered to the river.

  How did I know AJ was safe? How did I trust anyone from here on out? How could I have been so stupid not to put two and two together before I drove to Louisiana?

  I took another look at the text.

  Sydney, this is Ethan Howard. I thought more about our conversation about Cindy. I reached out to a friend we had in common at USC. He said she married after college and her last name is Harper. Sounds like she might be in a bad situation. I don’t know that he’s a good man. He gave me her last address. Maybe you can reach out to her and help her. Cindy doesn’t deserve something like this.

  I blamed the lack of sleep. I blamed the trauma of the kidnapping. I should have seen the glaring clue that Ethan didn’t send that text. He never called her Cindy. It only took AJ one pass to pick up on it.

  “Fuck,” I groaned, pressing my elbows into the railing of the balcony.

  What I did know is that whoever sent the text knew my mom as Cindy, and they didn’t know much of anything about Ethan Howard’s relationship with her.

  I stormed into the suite and flipped open the laptop. I didn’t think twice. I had been crossed. Duped. Endangered. AJ was right. Someone had used my heart against me. And that psycho had led me into a trap.