On top of his guilt was a combination of curiosity and confusion about how his relationship with Avery could end in anything other than disaster. He was on an operation sprung by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and choreographed to intentionally set his life on a collision course with Avery Mason, aka Claire Montgomery, the express purpose of which was to deceive her into believing he was interested in her story about Victoria Ford. All the while, his true goal would be to burrow his way far enough into her personal life so that he might find a scrap of evidence that would shed light on the whereabouts of her father. The entire scenario begged the question of whether Walt was any better than Meghan Cobb.

“Now there’s a man lost in his thoughts.”

Avery’s voice snapped him back from his trance.

Walt smiled at her. “Just zoning out.”

Avery opened her eyes excitedly and placed a finger to her ear as the two-man band began to play “The Weight,” by The Band.

“I just requested this.”

“Great song,” Walt said, turning to look over his shoulder at the musicians. “I’ve never heard it played with a violin. Sounds good.”

Avery took the stool next to him. “What were you thinking about?”

A loaded question, Walt thought. He spun his glass a few more times before answering.

“The strange road of life,” he finally said. “I was thinking about how we each came to this place in our lives. Sitting with each other here in this empty city.”

Avery took a sip of vodka. “Strange is one word for that road. Really . . . screwed up would be a better descriptor, though.”

“Your road is that bad?”

“Not bad, just complicated,” Avery said. “I was supposed to be a lawyer for my father’s firm. Being on television was never part of my five-year plan.”

“Really? How did the American Events thing happen?”

“By accident.”

Walt noticed her pause, as if she were about to say something before thinking better of it. He felt a sudden urge to tell Avery everything he knew about her, everything he had learned from the dossier Jim Oliver had delivered to him. He wanted to tell her that he knew all about the Montgomery family. That he knew her mother and brother were dead, and that her father had disappeared while under federal indictment. That he knew everything about her past, and that she didn’t need to go through the painful process of sharing it with him or figuring out what not to tell him. That he wasn’t the person she believed him to be, but something worse. Before any of his thoughts formed to words, Avery spoke again.

“Your story about Meghan the other night got me thinking that you and I have a lot in common.”

“How so?”

“We both ran away. You just did a better job of hiding than I did.”