She did remember. "Okay."
"For whatever reason, your sister decided she wanted to get her hands on the rest of the money. I don't know why. I don't know what prompted it. But I think your sister lied about those people in her room that night. I think...we think her kidnapping was staged."
Marisa tried to step back, bumped into the hearth, and stumbled. "No." She righted herself, pushed past Nate, and stalked to the bar. She turned to look at them, all watching her.
"No."
Nate stood and started to step toward her, but Brady shook his head, and he stopped.
Nobody else moved.
"Leslie wouldn't do this," Marisa said. "She wouldn't..."
Marisa stomped to the back door, yanked it open, and stepped outside. Cold damp air shocked her system, but she didn't care. She couldn't be inside with those people, with Nate. Couldn't listen to their terrible lies about her sister. Terrible lies that, God help her, made too much sense.
No.
Maybe Leslie was a thief. The facts lined up like chisels, chipping away at her battered heart.
But to kidnap a four-year-old girl, to smuggle her out of the country? To terrify Marisa? To harm a helpless child, all for the sake of money?
No, Leslie couldn't sink that low.
Marisa pulled the arms of the sweatshirt over her hands and hugged herself. The back deck extended a few feet beyond where she stood, but she stayed where the house's overhang protected her from the steady rain. The lake was gray, the raindrops splashing and creating a layer of mist that rose up like ash from the fires of hell.
Leslie wouldn't have done this. Leslie had never loved anyone except Mom and Marisa. And sometimes, Marisa had wondered about her sister's feelings for their mother. But she'd never doubted Leslie's love for her. She'd cared for her, protected her, guided her.
But even if Leslie hadn't been behind the kidnapping, she had stolen the firm's money. And because of that, Marisa had run away. Her life had been ruined because of something Leslie had done. Was it possible? Had Leslie done this, too?
The door opened, and a moment later, someone stood beside her.
"You okay?"
Nate, of course. She glanced at him, but he kept his gaze on the lake beyond the trees.
Marisa sighed. "I'm cold. Let's go inside."
He opened the door, and she stepped in. Brady, Rae, and Sam had moved back to the kitchen. They all looked at her.
"I'm fine." She went to the fireplace and warmed her hands. Stared at the flames. Tried not to think.
A moment later, Nate wrapped an afghan around her shoulders. "Cold out there."
"Yup."
"Probably feels pretty strange after so many years in Mexico."
"Yup."
She watched the flames, itching for a pencil and paper. To escape the nightmare for a few minutes with her fingers and her imagination. A picture filled her mind. A cabin, water dripping down the siding, the gray lake beyond, and the fire flickering through the windows. A figure entered the picture in her mind's eye, a little girl with dark hair and joyful eyes, her face lifted to the sky to catch the raindrops.
Tears dripped down Marisa's cheeks, but she couldn't move to wipe them. She let the moment fill her, overwhelm her, until a sob rose in her heart and burst out.
Nate turned her to face him, and she leaned against his sweatshirt and wept. He held her, silent, until the latest round of tears was spent. When she looked up and sniffed, Nate stared into her eyes, and she stared back. If only things could be different and she could stay with him, right in that spot, with Ana adding the music of her laughter. If only.
Nate wiped her tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You okay?"
She turned to see Brady, Rae, and Sam getting coffee, picking at muffins, and generally trying not to watch. Polite. A little awkward. She nearly laughed. "It's okay," she said to the room in general, and they all looked up. "Sorry about that."
Rae nodded gently. "You're entitled to fall apart. We don't mind. Right?" She nudged Brady, who nodded.
"Yeah. It's fine. Uh..."
"Let's sit back down," Rae said.
The five of them took their seats, and Marisa laid the blanket over her legs and sipped her coffee. Someone must've microwaved it while she'd been outside, because it was hot. She was thankful as it warmed her.
"Are you with us?" Nate asked.
"You're saying the kidnapping was staged. Leslie staged it."
Nate looked at Brady, who shook his head. "Just to be clear, your daughter was kidnapped. That wasn't staged. Your sister wasn't a victim, though. She's the kidnapper."
Leslie had kidnapped Ana. How could she have sunk so low? And more importantly, why? Marisa faced Sam. "But you said Leslie still has plenty of money."
"As far as I can tell," Sam said.
"Why would she do this?" Marisa asked. "And why now?"
Sam shrugged. Marisa turned to Nate. "You spent time with her. Did she give you any indication—?"
"That she was lying about everything? Of course not. I knew she was jealous of you, that maybe she wasn't convinced you didn't steal the money. But if I'd thought her capable of this, I never would have helped her find you."
"Of course." Marisa touched his hand. "I didn't mean to imply..."
Nate squeezed her hand. "I know."
"You asked the right question." Brady looked at Marisa. "We might not be able to figure out her motive, but let's focus on the other half of it—why now? What's different now from, say, a year ago? According to Sam, her business is thriving."
Sam nodded. "She picks up new accounts all the time, bought a new car with cash about a year ago. Her house is paid for—"
"Our inheritance," Marisa said.
"If there are gambling debts, I'm not seeing them," Sam said. "But even if there were, why not just pay them out of the money she already has?"
Rae leaned forward. "Maybe we can't figure out why, but something prompted her to do this. What's different in your sister's life now from before?"
The answer was obvious. "There's a guy. She's engaged." She looked at Nate. "She wasn't wearing a ring, but she said he was going to get her one soon. She talked about him a lot, said he was handsome and sweet, and she couldn't believe he wanted her."
"Did she give you a name?" Brady asked.
"Rick."
"No last name?"
Marisa shook her head. "I never thought to ask. We didn't have that much time to visit, honestly. We spent the one night together, but she was exhausted after all the travel, and she was sick the next day. We talked a little before bed that night, but..."
"It's okay," Rae said. "Rick is a start."
Sam was already tapping on her laptop's keyboard. "I'm looking at your sister's Facebook profile. Her relationship status says she's in a relationship. She doesn't mention the guy's name, though. I'll scroll through her friends..." Her voice trailed off as she studied the screen.
"Maybe this Rick she's involved with is her accomplice."
Marisa turned to Nate, a new thought occurring to her. "Or maybe he was just using her to get information, to find me. Maybe he threatened her, and she didn't have any choice."
Nate nodded slowly. "Maybe."
The rest of the room was silent. Clearly, nobody thought that seemed plausible, but the idea took hold, a lifesaver in this ocean of doubt. "Maybe she really was threatened that night, and they think I have all the money. She went to Mexico to get me to give it to her. Maybe she's been caught up in something she can't control."
"That's very possible, Marisa," Nate said. "We'll just have to wait until we find her and we can ask her."
"But you don't believe it."
He shook his head. "Why wouldn't she have just given them the money she stole? To protect herself, to protect you, why not just pay them off to get them to go away?"
Marisa had no answer to that.
"Remember what Nate said?" Rae asked. "In a weird way, this is good news."
M
arisa turned to Nate as the memory of his words from a few minutes before came to her. "Why is it good news?"
"Your daughter is with your sister." Nate adjusted in his seat to face her. "Don't you see? She might be guilty of all these things, but she's not a psychopath. She wouldn't be cruel. I don't know your sister like you do, but from what you've told us, and from what I've seen, she has a strong instinct to nurture. Don't you think she's taking good care of Ana?"
The tightening in her chest loosened just a tad, and a tiny flicker of hope lit. Marisa remembered Leslie with Ana, remembered how they'd walked hand-in-hand through the market. Remembered the gifts Leslie had bought her, the way they'd laughed together, how Leslie had protected Ana on that Acapulco street. Leslie wouldn't hurt Ana.
Marisa met Nate's eyes. "Leslie will take good care of her."
"I think so, too."
"Thank God." Marisa looked up, saw only the ceiling, but imagined some strong force up there. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe this might work out. She looked back at the faces around her, all watching for her reaction. She smiled. "You're right. That's good news."
Nate squeezed Marisa's hand and turned to Brady. "We have the information. What do we do with it?"
"I know what I'd say," Brady said, "but Garrison probably has more experience with this kind of thing than I do. Let's catch him up and see what he says."
"What would you do, though?" Marisa asked. "I'm curious."
"If it were me, I'd stay the course, see if you can discover who stole Charles's money. For all you know, they're watching you. You don't want them to know you're on to them."
Nate was nodding with Brady's words. "I agree. I'll call Garrison and get him up to speed." Nate stood and walked into his bedroom, dialing on the way.
Marisa sipped her coffee, picked up the muffin, and took a bite. It was delicious. She hadn't noticed before.
"More coffee?" Sam asked.
She looked inside her cup, finished the last sip, and nodded. "Let me. I want to play with the machine."
Sam laughed, and she and Rae joined Marisa in the kitchen, where Marisa figured out the Keurig. "I really missed America."
"I know what you mean," Rae said.
Marisa turned to the tall woman. "You've lived abroad?"
"Nate didn't tell you?"
Marisa looked at the closed door of his bedroom. "We haven't had a lot of time to catch up."
"We were colleagues."
More than colleagues at one point, but Marisa didn't quibble about the details.
"I'm a reporter, too," Rae said. "I lived in Tunisia."
"What brought you home?"
Rae looked at Sam, who lifted her eyebrows.
"It's a long story. You should ask Nate about it."
"I've tried a couple of times to ask him why he left the Times, but he always changes the subject."
Sam took Marisa's hand and squeezed. "Ask again. I think you need to know."
Their expressions were too serious. Seemed these two women knew a lot more about Nate than she did, and they felt she needed to know. Why, though? Would it affect their ability to find Ana and Leslie? Or did they think there was more going on between her and Nate?
Was there?
Marisa slid her coffee across the counter, took her muffin from the coffee table, and perched on a barstool. She ate the muffin, sipped her coffee, and wondered about the man who'd come to mean so much to her.
Chapter 15
AFTER NATE FILLED GARRISON in on all they'd learned, he stepped back into the living room to find Marisa chatting with Rae and Sam. Her plate held crumbs, and her coffee was half full. She was laughing at something, and the sound was more beautiful than a symphony at Carnegie Hall.
She turned when he walked in, her smile fading. Not the effect he wanted to have on her, but it couldn't be helped.
"Garrison thought our theories were sound," he said. "In fact, he was a little annoyed he'd never put it together before."
Brady stood in front of the fire, where he'd been adding more logs and probably avoiding all the estrogen in the kitchen. "He didn't have all the information." He brushed his hands off on his jeans.
"That's what I told him, but you know how those law enforcement guys are. All ego."
"Watch it," Brady said.
Marisa giggled, and Nate's heart did a little backflip. He'd made her laugh. The realization sent him a thousand stupid ideas, silly things he could do to elicit the same reaction. Good Lord, he was thinking like a middle-schooler. Maybe he should tug on her braid to get her to notice him.
The thought of children brought his mind to Ana, which sobered him. He walked around the bar into the kitchen. Not that he needed more coffee, but putting space between him and Marisa seemed a good idea, if he wanted to think straight.
Rae swiveled on her barstool. "What did he suggest?"
"Same thing as Brady—keep looking for the truth, because it might be our only leverage. The only way we can use the information is if we can either figure out who Leslie's accomplice is or get her on the phone alone. And even then, it would be risky to say anything. What if he's listening?"
Marisa said, "We could ask—"
"But why would she tell us the truth?" Nate leaned toward Marisa. "If he's listening in, she could say he's not. If we could be sure she was alone, we could confront her, suggest she give herself up and work with us to put her accomplice away. But if he's listening, or if she tells him we know..."
Marisa's face paled. "We could put her in danger."
"Or they could just run," Rae said. "Use her money and take off."
Marisa looked at Nate. "And what would they do with Ana?"
Rather than guess the answer, he said, "We keep going forward, searching for the money, and hope your sister and her friend keep their end of the bargain. Maybe an opening will come, and we'll get the chance to talk to Leslie alone. We'll just have to go where the circumstances take us."
Marisa sighed. "Nothing's changed, not really."
Brady stood behind Marisa and put his hand on her shoulder. "We know more than we did before. You know what they say—knowledge is power."
Rae nodded. "We'll figure out a way to use it. You never know how these things will work out." She met her husband's gaze, and they shared a moment that had Nate's heart beating wildly. He knew what they were thinking. It brought back a thousand bad memories.
Sam said, "What do we do now?"
Nate looked at her, thankful for something else to focus on besides Brady and Rae. "Any chance you could hack into Pamela Gray's accounts, see if she stole the money?"
"It's not stealing if it was her husband's money," Brady said.
"True," Nate said, "but she claimed she didn't have it. If she does, the mystery is solved." He looked back at Sam. "Can you do it?"
"I haven't been able to yet. She's better about security than most people."
"We'll just have to ask her," Marisa said. "Maybe if she knows the stakes, she'll help us."
Nate doubted it, but he didn't say that. "She's not going to be home until tomorrow. In the meantime, I think we need to figure out who Leslie's fiancé is. Did you find anything on her Facebook page?"
Sam shook her head. "It says she's in a relationship, but there were no Ricks or Richards."
"Maybe she lied about his name," Marisa said. "If he's an accomplice, why would she tell us the truth?"
"Maybe," Sam said. "The problem is, she has five hundred friends, about half of them men. I can scroll through them, see if I can narrow it down, but it'll take time."
"Five hundred friends?" Marisa couldn't imagine her sister connecting with that many people. Must be friends from her business. "Don't you have to work? I hate that you're all taking time off for this. Maybe I can do it."
"Don't be silly," Sam said. "It's just a job. I can catch up next week. This is more important."
Rae patted Marisa on the back. "I work freelance. My time is my own."
"But Jo
hnny—"
"Is fine," Rae said. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."
Brady nodded. "I'm a detective. This is what I do."
Marisa looked at Nate. He reached across the counter and took her hand. "There's no place I'd rather be than right here. I'm with you in this."
"I know." She held his gaze. Something warm and electric passed between them. Something terrifying and beautiful. He cursed the counter between them.
She looked away first. "Thank you. All of you. I can't imagine doing this alone."
NATE OPENED THE DOOR for Marisa, who climbed into Brady's truck Friday morning just as the night faded to gray. After a stop at McNeal's for coffee and breakfast sandwiches to go, they aimed for I-93. They were mostly silent until they slowed slightly as traffic picked up nearing 495.
"Where are all these people going so early in the morning?" Marisa asked.
"Most are trying to beat the traffic into Boston."
She looked at the clock. "I would still be sleeping back in Mexico. Our commute was a walk across the street."
"Different lifestyle down there."
"There were plenty who left for Chilpancingo before dawn. Ana and I were fortunate."
Nate glanced at her profile in the brightening light. Even this early in the morning, she was stunning. "Not a lot of folks would consider your circumstances fortunate."
She shrugged and sipped her coffee.
He'd managed to eat his sandwich before they'd hit Londonderry, before the traffic really slowed them down. Her sandwich lay on the paper it had come wrapped in, resting on her lap. She'd been picking at it for twenty minutes. She took the final bite, balled up the paper, and dropped it in the McNeal's sack. After she'd finished the bite, she said, "Thing is, it could have been much worse for me, but since I already spoke Spanish and I'm half Puerto Rican, moving to Mexico was easier than it would have been for someone like your friend Rae, for instance. Trying to fit in with her complexion and red hair—that would have been tough."
"You'd be surprised, though. Rae's able to fit in about anywhere she goes. She dyed her hair dark brown when she lived in Africa. It wasn't very pretty, but she stood out less."
"Tunisia, she said."
Twisted Lies Page 19
