Red Widow by Alma Katsu (good books to read for beginners txt) 📗

Raymond Murphy and the Counterintelligence guys and the people on the seventh floor would think: she’s lost her mind. Theresa Warner is a traitor. She’s crossed over.

Lyndsey’s heart squeezes. But they did this to her. The seventh floor, Eric, all the people who let her down. They made Theresa Warner into a bad guy.

At the heart of all this is a greater evil, she suspects. But she has to be able to prove it.

And Theresa Warner might be the only one who can do that.

Lyndsey rises from the bench and starts to walk to Theresa.

Theresa looks happy to see her. She holds something up as Lyndsey approaches: a cup of coffee.

Theresa laughs. “You look like you could use this. Two pumps of caramel, just like you like it.”

Lyndsey stares at the paper cup. Theresa’s hand is trembling ever so slightly. Confident Theresa, who would never let anyone see her sweat.

Lyndsey takes the cup to be friendly. But she doesn’t feel neighborly toward Theresa at this very moment. “There’s something we have to discuss. Where we won’t be overheard. Come with me.”

—

They sit in Lyndsey’s car in the parking lot. The seats smell strongly of vinyl baking in the sun, and of cleaner with a fruity perfume.

Theresa’s perfect eyebrow arches. Her breathing is shallow, a fox run to ground. She sips at her coffee, hands still trembling. It’s disconcerting. “What’s this about, Lyndsey? Why are we sitting in your car?”

Now or never. Once said, it can never be taken back. Theresa could run. The case could blow up, and the truth—the delicate truth, hidden deep within a tangle of conflicting clues—could be trampled in the ensuing investigation.

The Widow may be too hardened, too bitter, to agree to cooperate. Lyndsey senses that she isn’t.

But there’s only one way to find out. Only one way to save Theresa Warner.

She takes a deep breath. “I know, Theresa. I know what you’ve been up to with the Russians.”

The Widow tries to fake surprise and indignation. Her eyebrows shoot up, her mouth drops open in a perfect red O. But it only lasts a fraction of a second. “That’s insane. How can you accuse me of such a thing? My husband—”

“You can play it that way if you like, Theresa, but it won’t do you any good. I’m trying to help you. I know—we know, the FBI is involved now—the Russians are coming for you in a few days. We know that you’re planning to run.” Theresa takes a breath to speak, then stops. She presses her lips together. She wants to speak but she’s stopping herself. “I know everything—most everything,” Lyndsey corrects. “I know why you’re doing this. Eric lied to you and hid things from you. You made a deal with the Russians for Richard. It’s not too late, though. Think about what will happen if you go through with this. CIA knows, FBI knows. They’re not going to let you leave with the Russians. They have a dragnet set up and they’ll catch you. And then what happens? You’ll be disgraced. You’ll lose everything: your house, your bank accounts, your family, your friends. Your son. Everything.”

In the passenger seat, Theresa turns away from her. Her chin drops, and she closes her eyes. Doesn’t want to see the truth.

“There’s no turning back now. If you warn the Russians that we know, the FBI will still track you down and arrest you. We’ve got enough to do that, but we want your Russian handlers, too. I’m giving you a chance to help yourself,” Lyndsey continues. “Think about Brian. What will happen to him? Who will take care of him? The disgrace will ruin his life, haunt him forever. And Richard—”

Theresa laughs bitterly. “If I’m arrested, at least Richard’s story will come out. They’ll be forced to do something.”

“Is that what you were hoping for all along? To help Richard? You’re not a traitor.”

Another rueful chuckle, then a sigh. The resistance crumbles like a sand castle under the tide. “Of course not. The plan was to get him out of prison and for the three of us to find a quiet place to start a new life.” She brushes at the corners of her eyes. “I wasn’t asking so much. A normal life. That’s what other people get.”

For a moment, it’s not clear what Theresa will do next. The air between them is charged, electric. Anything is possible, even violence. Lyndsey is pretty sure she could physically stop Theresa from harming her—or herself. She seems so fragile at this moment.

“Were you out to get me all along?” Theresa asks. She is sad in that moment. Her mouth is grim. “Our friendship—was it an act, from the beginning?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

Theresa looks wounded. She stares out the windshield, something ticking in the back of her mind. “You might as well let me go. The damage is done. They have Nesterov . . . and you know what they did to Kulakov. There’s no taking it back. But Richard would be freed. Doesn’t he deserve that?”

This woman is not about to accept the fact that she’s lost. Sweat trickles down the back of Lyndsey’s neck. “It’s over, Theresa. I’m saying help me fix this, and I’ll help you.”

Theresa stares at her hands. “You don’t understand. I’ve done things . . . things you can’t help me with.”

“You mean Kyle Kincaid?”

A curt nod.

“You’re right—I can’t make any promises there. You better pray he doesn’t die.”

“He wanted to blackmail me.” That laugh again, brittle. “They’re wolves on the seventh floor, you know. They’ll never forgive me. They’ll never let me go.”

There is a flicker in Theresa’s eyes: she wants to trust me. “I’m asking you, Theresa, as your friend: don’t do this. Trust me. We’ll find a way.”

The seconds stretch long. There is no choice, not really. Theresa is taking a long time, Lyndsey knows, because it means admitting she will never see Richard again. It means giving up on him. She has to choose between her husband and her son.

Finally, she