Walt blinked a few times but couldn’t think of a reasonable question to ask.
“Claire Montgomery is my actual name. Claire Avery Montgomery. When I moved to LA to write for the Times, I used Avery Mason in my byline. It stuck.”
Walt shook his head. “Start from the beginning.”
“After my father was arrested and indicted, I had to get out of New York. On top of stealing billions of dollars from innocent people, my father also had a second life with another woman. I don’t know what I hate him more for. To think the man who used to call me The Claire-Voyant One—the nickname he gave me for my supposed ability to see through his bullshit—had a secret life away from his wife and kids was a betrayal worse than anything he could have stolen.”
Walt’s mind flashed to the shredded postcard patched together with Scotch tape he had found in Avery’s room. The message on it had been addressed to the one-and-only Claire-Voyant.
“I knew my law degree was worthless. No reputable firm was going to hire Garth Montgomery’s daughter. So I fell back on my journalism degree. I moved to California and took a job at the LA Times. I broke a big case about a missing kid in Florida, and it got a lot of attention. I was invited to appear on American Events to tell the story. Mack Carter and I hit it off. Soon, I was guest hosting once a week covering other missing persons stories and the like.”
“As Avery Mason.”
She nodded. “I found my niche with a strange combination of morbidly fascinating cases and the inspirational.”
“Like the lady who crashed into the lake and managed to save her four kids.”
Avery smiled. “You really are a fan of the show.”
Walt nodded. He waited for her to continue.
“Last summer, Mack Carter died while on assignment and HAP News tapped me to take over. I agreed because there was no way I could turn the opportunity down. It’s been a year now, and there have been lots of stories about my success after taking over for one of America’s most beloved newsmagazine hosts. I found myself in this sort of whirlpool I couldn’t get out of. No one’s made the connection to my father yet. But sooner or later, someone will.”
Avery lifted her vodka.
“So that’s what I’m running from.”
“No one knows about your father?” Walt asked.
“People know. I spent twenty-nine years as Claire Montgomery, creating a life and laying down roots. I’m still very much Claire Montgomery. I’ve heard from plenty of friends and former classmates who watch the show. The network sends my checks to Claire Montgomery. It’s a common enough name that no one important has made the connection yet. But it’ll happen. At some point, it’ll happen. The only reason it hasn’t yet is because my popularity is too new and came too quickly. If you add up all the people who know me as Garth Montgomery’s daughter you might come to, what, a couple hundred? A thousand? Do we each personally know a thousand people? The American Events audience who knows me as Avery Mason is fifteen-million strong.”
“So what happens when it comes out?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe I lose it all. I just finished my first full season as host of AE. There hasn’t been a lot of time for my past to come out. But the reality is that I can’t hide nearly thirty years of life.”
“Why would you? You don’t need to hide anything. So you have a shitty father—join the crowd.”
Avery laughed. “Mine’s shittier than most. And infamous.”
“So what? None of it was your fault. None of his sins are a reflection on you. You’re an investigative journalist who has a wildly popular show. Why are you hiding anything?”
“I didn’t plan to hide anything. Not really. This whole thing happened so fast that I haven’t had time to right the ship.”
“So get out in front of it. That’s how these things are handled and put quickly to rest. That this part of your past exists is not the problem. Hiding it is.”
“I plan to. Get out in front of it. But . . .”
Walt waited. “But what?”
He saw Avery hesitate, and sensed she was choosing her words carefully.
“But what?” he asked again.
“But I have a few things to take care of first.”
CHAPTER 50
Manhattan, NY Sunday, July 4, 2021
IT WAS 9:30 P.M. WHEN THEY LEFT THE RUM HOUSE. THEIR NEXT DESTINATION was not discussed, but they headed back toward the Lowell. As they walked, they heard a pop behind them, turned, and saw the cascading streaks of an arching firework far off in the distance. The fireworks display was staged near the Brooklyn Bridge and set off from barges on the East River. A pinwheel rocketed into the sky and expanded into a burst of brightness. The subtle boom came a second later, delayed by having to travel halfway up the island of Manhattan to reach them. They stood quietly and watched for a minute. Walt felt Avery take his hand and intertwine her fingers with his. After a few minutes they turned and headed to Avery’s hotel.
When they reached the front entrance, Avery tugged and he followed her inside. The elevator deposited them on the eighth floor. Walt felt his shirt begin to stick to his back again, and preemptively blotted his forehead with the back of his hand. He followed Avery down the hallway and stood behind her as she unlocked the door. Following her through the entryway, he spotted the thin metal box on the edge of the coffee table. To him, it was as obvious as if another person were standing in the room waiting for them.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Avery said. “I’ll be right out.”
As soon as the bathroom door closed Walt exhaled, allowing his shoulders to relax and his chin to drop to his chest. He hurried over and grabbed the box. If he planned to plant the bugs, now would be the time to do it. It took him only a fraction of a second to decide against it. He would not allow Avery’s private conversations to be recorded. Jim Oliver could go to hell. He dropped the box into his pocket just as Avery walked from the bathroom.