"Why did your fraud case get shut down?"
"We got a new director three months ago. She wanted to reorganize, cut cases that were taking too much time and didn't have enough evidence to go the distance—her words, not mine."
"Do you think there was more than just efficiency behind her decision?"
"Yes. I think she might be a director who caves to political pressure, and that won't work in the white-collar crime division."
"So you left. And your new team?"
"Very impressive. And they operate without a lot of oversight, which will be refreshing. At least, that's my hope. Time will tell." He paused as his phone buzzed. "Our pizza is ten minutes away. Why don't we go down to the garage and get those boxes before our food arrives?"
She was more than happy to do something other than talk about her past, although bringing Landon's boxes back into her apartment would probably be worse.
ChapterNine
The storage unit was cramped and dusty, filled with the remnants of her brother's life. She'd never put anything else in there. In fact, she'd never even opened the door in the past five years. But now, she had to go back in time. She grabbed the large box while Matt pulled the two smaller ones out, and they took them upstairs, setting them on the floor by her coffee table.
"These are dusty," Matt commented.
"I haven't opened them since I put them in there a few weeks after I moved here, which was about ten months after Landon died. I'm kind of afraid to look in them now, but I know I have to."
"You have a few more minutes," Matt said as he glanced at his phone. "The pizza is here. I'll run down and get it. We'll eat and then tackle the boxes."
She was relieved by the delay. "Sounds good."
After he left, she cleared her files off the dining table, then got plates and napkins from the kitchen. She had just grabbed the bottle of wine and their glasses from the coffee table when Matt knocked on the door a moment later. She checked the peephole just to be sure, then let him in. The delicious aroma of garlic and onions followed him through the door, and she realized she hadn't eaten all day. "That smells good."
"It is good. One of my favorite places in Santa Monica."
She looked at the box. "Luigi's. I've never been there."
"Once you taste this pie, you'll want to order it again and again."
"You are very confident in your choices," she said dryly. "Even when it comes to pizza."
"Especially when it comes to pizza," he said as they sat down at the table.
She took a slice from each box, happy to eat, and Matt seemed to feel the same way. When she'd finished her third slice, she sipped her wine and said, "I feel better."
"Me, too."
She sat back in her chair. "We've been talking a lot about me, and I know next to nothing about you. What's your story, Agent Lawson?"
"I thought you researched me."
"I didn't have time to look that deeply, and you have no social media presence, so that didn't help."
"I don't like social media. I see no value in posting photos of my food or looking at other people's photos of their food."
"It's not always about food," she said with a smile. "It's about sharing your life."
"I'm an FBI agent. Being covert is part of my job."
"Sure. But we're working together, so I should know more about you. Where are you from? What was your childhood like? Do you have family?"
"I have a family. I was born in a small farming community in Central California called Millbrook. Population about 10,000. My dad was an agricultural inspector for the state, and my grandfather was the sheriff. My mother was a teacher, and my grandmother worked at the quilt store."
"Sounds like a beautiful family growing up in an idyllic place."
