The Invisible. Andrew Britton

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      Harper had paused on the way out the door to murmur a few words in her ear, but five minutes had passed since then, and Naomi still hadn’t moved. She hadn’t even glanced over her shoulder. From where he was sitting, Kealey couldn’t see her face, so he had no way of knowing what she was thinking. He could read her body language, though, and her tense, constant movements were saying a lot. She seemed to be pushing a glass back and forth in a deliberate way, as though turning something over in her mind, or deciding how best to approach their unexpected reunion.

      Unexpected on his end, Kealey corrected himself. She must have known this was coming for quite some time. He desperately wanted to jump up and walk over, but he knew it was better to let her make the first move. They hadn’t seen each other in half a year, after all, and there was no point in pushing things now.

      It was a lot to take in. Her sudden reappearance had hit him hard, and he was still trying to figure out how to react. Unfortunately, he had run out of time to think it through. Without warning, she had climbed off her stool and started across the worn carpet. A few seconds later she slipped into the seat that Harper had just vacated, folded her arms across her chest, and fixed him with a steady stare. Her mouth was set in a straight, tight line. There was nothing apologetic about the way she was looking at him; in fact, it was just the opposite. It was almost as if she were upset with him, which didn’t make sense at all.

      “Naomi,” he said slowly, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what to say. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I haven’t seen you in months, and now you just…”

      “I know. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. It just kind of happened that way.”

      “How have you been?”

      She opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut and looked away. It was a trite, obvious question, but it was the way he had asked it that made all the difference. The concern in his voice could not have been more genuine, and judging by the small frown that had crossed her face, he’d taken her by surprise. She probably expected him to be angry, Kealey realized, and on some level, he was. For the moment, though, he was just relieved to see her again.

      She was still distracted, so he took a second to look her over. The white cashmere sweater she was wearing was one of her favorites, as familiar as her snug, worn jeans and clunky heels. Her shimmering black tresses drifted around her face and over her shoulders, her bangs sweeping from left to right across her forehead. It was a slight variation on her usual style, and it served to conceal most of the pale, crooked scar that bisected her right cheek. It was the only mark on her otherwise flawless caramel-colored skin, which only made it that much more noticeable.

      Most of all, he was struck by her posture, which was hard to read. She looked aggressive and defensive all at once. Her arms remained folded across her chest, and her jaw was clenched tightly shut. It was almost as if she were daring him to question the choices she’d made since their last conversation—the choices she’d intentionally kept from him for months on end.

      Kealey couldn’t tell how much was show and how much reflected an actual change in her personality, but he didn’t think that her recent training at “The Farm”—the Agency’s main training facility near Williamsburg, Virginia—could have changed her this much. It was more likely that the trials she had gone through the previous year were really to blame. It was strange to see her this way, stripped of her innocence and naiveté. Mostly, though, it was just good to see her again, to know that she hadn’t succumbed to her inner turmoil.

      “I’ve been doing okay,” she finally responded. The words caught Kealey off guard; he’d forgotten he’d asked the question. “Better since I went through the course at Camp Peary, anyway. What did Harper tell you?”

      “Nothing, really.”

      “He must have told you something,” she pressed. “What did he say?”

      “He said you wanted to train.” Kealey hesitated. “Is that what you were doing at Peary? Training to go into the field?”

      She nodded slowly. “You may not believe this, Ryan, but it was the right decision. The best thing I could have done, really. I needed a change, but it wasn’t just that. I needed to…”

      “To what?” he asked, once it became clear she wasn’t going to finish.

      She shrugged and looked away. She was trying to project a degree of determination, but she couldn’t seem to pull it off. It was just as he’d thought; she might have changed on some level, but despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to fix what was truly wrong. It didn’t surprise him at all. From personal experience, he knew that the wounds inside—the ones that didn’t bleed and couldn’t be seen—were usually the worst, if only because there was no clear way to repair them.

      “I can’t really explain it,” Naomi said, “but trust me, it was all for the best. It wasn’t about you, by the way. That’s not why I left, but…look, that’s beside the point. I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. To tell you in person. I think I owe you that.”

      “Tell me what, exactly?”

      “That I’m ready to go back to work.” She paused for a second to gauge his reaction. “Harper offered me this assignment himself. He said I was perfectly suited for it, given the Pakistani angle. There aren’t too many people who speak Punjabi in the Clandestine СКАЧАТЬ