Chapter 167: Three Names

Chapter 167: Three Names
The FBI agent's name was Carla Reyes, and she had the kind of face that gave away nothing without being unfriendly about it. She'd been in Pulaski's office when Winston arrived at eight in the morning, sitting in the chair across from the desk with a coffee cup and a tablet.
Pulaski made the introduction and then largely stepped back, which told Winston something about how the dynamic had shifted overnight. The case had a different owner now.
"Mr. Okafor," Reyes said. "Thank you for coming in."
"Please, just call me Winston." Winston sat in the remaining chair. "And I've been coming in every day for three weeks, so it's less of an achievement than it sounds."
"Detective Pulaski tells me you were close with Oliver Clarke."
"I thought I was."
"Tell me about that."
Winston looked at his hands for a moment. He'd been telling people about Oliver for weeks now, and it didn't get easier, but it had changed. Early on, it felt like defending someone, then like explaining something, and now it felt like describing a building he'd lived in for two years and had just found out was built on something he hadn't known was there.
"We worked together at Pixel Ledger," he said. "Adjacent desks. We had lunch together most days, went for drinks sometimes, that kind of thing. He was easy to be around. There was nothing — he never made you feel like something was off. He was funny, he was interested in people, and he remembered things you'd told him. He was the kind of person you assumed was just a good person because nothing suggested otherwise."
Reyes was typing something on her tablet. "Did he talk about his past?"
"Some. Upstate New York, a strict father, studied computer science." Winston paused. "He mentioned a mother once and then didn't again. I didn't push it."
"Did he ever mention volunteer work?"
"Once. He was vague about it. I assumed it was something like a food bank or something." Winston looked at the window. The day outside was gray and flat. "I didn't ask follow-up questions."
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn’t really interested…" Winston looked back at her. "Sorry, it’s boring stuff." He paused. "Now, I've been thinking about that a lot. All the things I didn't ask follow-up questions about."
Reyes looked at him. "What else?"
"He traveled sometimes on weekends. Didn't make a lot of it. Said he liked driving on his motorbike." Winston rubbed his jaw. "His aliases. I only know about them because of the photo I found and what Pulaski told me. But looking back, there were moments…small ones…where something he said didn't quite line up with something he'd said before. I thought he just mixed things up. I do that a lot too, especially when I’m drunk."
"Can you give me an example?"
Winston thought about it. "Once he mentioned a place he'd lived after college. A city. But another time, he mentioned something about that same period that didn't fit the geography of the city he'd named. I noticed it for about three seconds and then forgot it." He looked at the table. "He was very good at making things feel like your misunderstanding rather than his inconsistency."
Reyes made a note. "What was your relationship with Wyatt Parson?"
"Professional. I worked for him. He was cocky and difficult sometimes, but he’s rich so…"
"Difficult how?"
"Demanding," Winston paused. "He had a thing for Del. She wasn't interested, and he didn't respond well to that, I think."
"And Oliver Clarke's relationship with Wyatt Parson?"
"Professional until it wasn't. Oliver was Del’s boyfriend. There was a fight in the office. Oliver hit him. After that…they were all gone missing."
Reyes set the tablet down. She looked at him directly. "Mr. Okafor, Winston, what I'm about to tell you is based on what we've confirmed so far, and I want you to understand that this picture is still being put together." She paused. "Oliver Clarke, born Liam Cole, has been connected to at least 12 deaths across four states over approximately eight years. Possibly more. The three that Pulaski identified are part of a larger pattern that we're still mapping."
Winston sat with that number. 12, at least.
"The pattern is consistent," Reyes continued. "He identifies a target. Someone with questionable records. He gets close to them under an alias, learns their life, and confirms his assessment. Then he acts. The time between identification and action varies. Weeks sometimes. Months in other cases."
"He was doing this the whole time," Winston said. "While we were working together.”
"We believe so, yes."
Winston sat back. He pressed both hands flat on his thighs and looked at the water-stained ceiling tile and then back at Reyes. "Shit."
Reyes looked at him carefully.
"Del. Where is she in all of this? What's her situation?”
Reyes paused. "We believe she's with him voluntarily, at least in the sense that she hasn't left when opportunities may have presented themselves. Whether that's a genuine choice or something else, we don't know yet."
"But she's too clear-eyed," Winston said. "She would have seen him eventually. She probably already has."
Reyes made a note. "We have surveillance footage from a gas station in Texas. Two days ago. Both of them buying food." She turned the tablet to show him. The image was low quality, shot from above and at an angle. Two figures at a counter. The woman had light hair, shorter than he remembered.
Winston looked at it for a long time.
"That's her?" he said.
"And him."
Winston looked at the other figure. The angle hid most of the face, but the build was right; the way he stood was right.
Reyes took the tablet back. "We're coordinating with Texas law enforcement and border patrol. If they're heading for the Mexico crossing at Presidio, which the route suggests, we have people in position."
"Will you get there in time?"
Reyes looked at him with an honest expression. "We're moving as fast as we can."
Winston nodded. He picked up his coffee cup and found it was empty and set it back down. "She looked okay," he said. "In the footage, she looked like herself."
"That's a good sign."
"Yeah." He looked at the tablet, now dark on the table between them. "Can I ask you something?"
Reyes waited.
"When this is over," he said. "Whatever over looks like. Is she going to be all right? Del."
"People who've been through extended situations like this one," she said carefully, "often need a significant amount of time. The relationships that form in those circumstances are real, even when they're formed under difficult conditions. She may not be who she was before."
"No," Winston said. "She probably won't be."