Chapter 2 - The Agent in the Parking Garage
Jamie’s procedure lasted ninety-three minutes.
I counted every one.
Conrad arrived twenty minutes after they took Jamie upstairs.
I stared at him from the waiting room.
“What are you doing here?”
He removed his coat.
“Waiting.”
“You have work.”
“I own the company.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have work.”
“It mostly means exactly that.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Conrad sat beside me.
Not too close.
Not touching me.
Just there.
For the next hour, he said almost nothing.
When Dr. Reyes finally appeared, I was standing before he finished saying my name.
“Everything went beautifully.”
My knees weakened.
Conrad’s hand caught my elbow.
Dr. Reyes smiled.
“The pressure gradient dropped immediately. He’ll need observation, but I’m very happy.”
I covered my mouth.
“Thank you.”
Conrad released my arm.
Only then did I realize how tightly he had been holding it.
That evening, Jamie woke groggy.
He saw Conrad standing near the doorway.
“Who’s that?”
I looked at Conrad.
“This is Mr. Harlow.”
Jamie blinked.
“Are you Mom’s boss?”
“No,” Conrad said.
“Boyfriend?”
I nearly dropped the water cup.
“Jamie.”
Conrad looked at me.
A dangerous hint of amusement appeared.
“No,” he told Jamie. “Your mother would probably object to that description.”
“I would.”
Jamie frowned.
“So what are you?”
Conrad considered it.
“A friend.”
That one word changed something between us.
Three days later, Conrad’s father was discharged.
I assumed Conrad would disappear with him.
Instead, he asked me to dinner.
I refused.
He asked again two days later.
I refused again.
The third time, he called while I was folding Jamie’s laundry.
“Is this becoming harassment?”
“Possibly.”
“Then why are you still calling?”
“Because I have excellent lawyers.”
I laughed.
“That isn’t charming.”
“You laughed.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Dinner. Saturday.”
“Conrad.”
“No charity.”
I went quiet.
“No repayment. No discussion about Jamie’s bill. Two adults eating dinner.”
“That sounds suspiciously normal.”
“I can arrange something more alarming if you prefer.”
I should have said no.
Instead, I said yes.
Saturday dinner became Tuesday coffee.
Tuesday coffee became a walk along Elliott Bay the following Sunday while Jamie threw crackers at seagulls.
Conrad was different around Jamie.
Patient.
Awkward.
Unexpectedly gentle.
Jamie adored him.
That frightened me more than anything.
Because adults could survive disappointment.
Five-year-olds believed promises.
I finally told Conrad that one night outside my apartment.
“If you’re going to disappear, do it before Jamie gets attached.”
Conrad’s expression hardened.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Neither do I.”
At least he was honest.
“But I’m not playing with your son.”
“And me?”
His eyes held mine.
“Especially not you.”
Then he kissed me.
Slowly.
No force.
No assumption.
He gave me every possible second to pull away.
I did not.
For almost two weeks, life became dangerously close to happy.
Then Agent Marisol Torres appeared.
I finished an afternoon shift and stepped into the parking garage.
A woman in a dark blue coat stood beside my car.
“Lauren Mercer?”
I stopped.
“Yes?”
She showed me identification.
“Special Agent Torres. Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Nothing involving you directly.”
“Then why are you standing beside my car?”
Her gaze was steady.
“Conrad Harlow.”
I felt instantly defensive.
“What about him?”
“How well do you know him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It may become our business.”
She handed me a card.
I did not take it.
Agent Torres lowered her hand.
“We’re investigating irregularities involving several shipping companies operating through the Port of Seattle.”
“Harlow Maritime?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
She watched me closely.
“Has Mr. Harlow ever discussed shipping manifests, customs inspections, or international transfers with you?”
“No.”
“Has he asked you to carry documents?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Messages?”
“No.”
“Has he ever requested access to hospital records?”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“Did he pay for your son’s surgery?”
Everything inside me went still.
“How do you know that?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
“Ms. Mercer, sixty thousand dollars moved through one of the Harlow Foundation’s discretionary accounts days after you met him.”
“It paid a hospital bill.”
“We know.”
“Then what exactly are you implying?”
“That powerful men sometimes create obligations before they ask people to repay them.”
My anger came immediately.
“You don’t know him.”
“Do you?”
That silenced me.
Torres stepped closer.
“If Conrad Harlow asks you to move money, hold documents, alter records, or lie for him, call me.”
“He won’t.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
I remembered Conrad beside Jamie’s hospital bed.
I remembered the flowers.
His father.
His hand catching me outside the operating room.
“Because he never asked me for anything.”
Torres studied my face.
Then she said something strange.
“Be careful what you tell him about this conversation.”
“Why?”
“Because if Harlow Maritime is clean, nothing changes.”
“And if it isn’t?”
Her expression became grim.
“Then somebody inside Conrad Harlow’s company has been using his ships to move millions of dollars without declaring where the money comes from.”
I stared at her.
“And you think Conrad is involved?”
“We don’t know.”
That answer frightened me more than yes.
That night, Conrad texted.
Dinner?
I looked at the FBI agent’s card on my kitchen counter.
Then at Jamie asleep on the couch.
I typed:
Can’t tonight. Long shift.
It was the first lie I ever told Conrad.
May you like
It would not be the last.
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