Twisted Lies

by Robin Patchen

When he didn't finish, Brady said, "You need to quit putting him off. You'll have to tell him you have the money."

  "Or I can get it," Marisa said. "Maybe I should say I can get access to it on Monday. That gives us two more days. And it is Saturday."

  "Some banks are open. And they all have online banking," Nate said. "What would be your excuse?"

  She didn't know. She looked around the room for advice. Brady glanced at Rae, who opened her mouth before snapping it shut. Sam started tapping on her computer as if all the answers could be found on that screen. If only.

  It was Nate who finally spoke. "The money is tied up in a mutual fund, and the account has been closed and the money sent, but it won't be in your account until Monday."

  "That could work," Sam said. "And it would make sense, I think."

  "That I'd bought a mutual fund with stolen money?"

  "Not you," Nate said. "You've maintained all along you didn't have the money. You need to stick with that. Tell him the person who has it is giving it to you."

  "Okay. But still, stolen money in a mutual fund?"

  Rae leaned forward. "In this story, you're just telling him what the person who really stole the money told you. If he questions you, you can tell him that. You're just passing on what you've been told."

  "Not only that," Nate added, "but this guy doesn't have the same skills as his brothers. Does he know anything about that stuff? He's the manager of a copy shop."

  "True." It seemed like a good plan. She turned to Nate. "Good idea. But what if he asks me who stole it?"

  A moment of quiet while the group thought. Then Sam suggested, "Tell him you can't say, that it's a condition of getting the money."

  Nate angled to face her. "And be sure that you don't let on that you know about your sister. We don't want him figuring out we're talking to the police."

  "Right." She squeezed his arm. "Thank you for reminding me. There's too much to think about."

  "You've got it," Nate shifted to look into her eyes. "And I'll be with you."

  Thank God for that. She wasn't sure if she'd survive without Nate by her side.

  Brady cleared his throat. "Okay, let's talk about our plan. How are we going to draw this guy out?"

  She turned her attention to the group. "Are we going to ask Jessica for help?"

  "I think that's the best plan," Brady said. "But instead of trying to lure him up here, I think we should just let the cops take him down in White Plains. If he doesn't have Ana with him, the FBI can squeeze him until he gives up her location." He nodded toward Marisa. "She's your daughter. Does that work for you?"

  "Yeah. Now that they're involved, there's no point in trying to push them out."

  "I agree." Nate turned to her. "Shall I call Jessica?"

  "Please. I don't think I could get through the conversation."

  "Actually," Brady said, "let me set it up. I'll talk to Garrison's partner, and they can make the call and work with her." When Nate started to protest, Brady pinned his friend with his gaze. "They know what they're doing."

  "Yeah." Nate nodded slowly. "Of course."

  Marisa knew how Nate felt. It was hard to give up control of the situation. As if they'd ever had it. "Sounds like a plan."

  Chapter 28

  RICK HAD BEEN WATCHING the cabin all day. Boyle and Marisa had come out earlier, but since then he'd only seen the big man who'd arrived with the lady and the baby that morning.

  It was that big man Rick kept thinking about. Rick had a bad feeling about him. He carried himself like a soldier.

  Or a cop.

  Rick didn't like him. But the lady and the baby he'd arrived with made him wonder. And the other lady. Maybe they were relatives or something. Rick had researched Boyle while the tracer app on his laptop showed their car passing into New Hampshire. This place, Nutfield, was Boyle's hometown. Probably the big man and his family were his friends or something. And the other woman. Maybe a sister. Maybe just another friend. They were probably all in there right now, talking about Rick and the brat.

  She was in the bedroom of the empty cabin Rick had found. Just a few doors down from Marisa's. He'd broken in, then he'd jumped back in his car and driven down the road to watch. When no cops arrived, proving there was no silent alarm, he'd returned and made himself comfortable.

  It wasn't the nicest cabin on the lake, that was for sure. Which was why he'd picked it—why get an alarm to protect a dump like this? Needed updating. Brown carpet, ugly plaid couches. But it was better than that rat trap Leslie had found them. And it had this nice deck.

  The deck had been empty of furniture, but he'd dragged a padded rocking chair out from the living room, along with a kitchen chair to use as a footrest. Not a bad deal for a couple of hours of spying.

  He had to admit, this wasn't the worst part of his adventure, sitting on the back deck of a cabin, sipping water with one hand, watching through his binoculars with the other. He wished he could see the front of their cabin from here, too. But it was quiet on the lake. He had heard car doors slamming earlier and been out in front in time to see everyone get there. He was sure he wouldn't miss anything as long as he stayed outside and stayed vigilant.

  The problem was, he was bored to tears.

  When Nate and Marisa had come out earlier, their voices had traveled across the little cove. Not that he'd been able to make out what they were saying. And the big man had come out twice, once just a few moments before, to make phone calls. Again, Rick couldn't make out the man's words. Too bad he didn't have a listening device. He'd love to hear what was going on over there.

  He pulled out his real cell phone. He shouldn't turn it on. Didn't need to get in contact with anybody or hear from anybody. Ever since he'd lost his temper with Leslie, ever since he'd...

  Nope. Wasn't going to think about that.

  But ever since, he'd been paranoid. But he could turn it on for a second, right? See if any of his friends had texted him.

  He powered it on and checked the texts. Nothing important. A couple missed calls, one from Jessica. Odd for her to have called again.

  He powered off the cell and thought about that. Why would Jessica call him again? Either Hunter was really eager to see him, or something was wrong.

  He needed to call her back. But he wasn't going to leave his real phone on, and he couldn't use his burner. Someone was probably trying to trace it. He didn't know how that stuff worked, but he wasn't taking any chances. So. What to do?

  He stared at the lake and was considering driving to town for a fresh burner when the answer hit him. He'd taken all of Leslie's stuff when he'd left the apartment, including her purse. And in her purse was her cell phone and her burner phone. He wouldn't use the cell—the cops were surely monitoring that one. Only an idiot would use the cell phone of a dead person.

  But the burner... He was the only one with that number.

  He jogged outside to his car. He'd left Leslie's car near the apartment in Chelsea and had switched to his own, kicking himself for being stupid enough to choose hers in the first place. As soon as the cops found her body, they'd look for her car. Duh.

  His car was clean, except for all the crap inside it. Most of it was Leslie's stuff that she'd had at the apartment. He dug through her purse, found her burner, and powered it on.

  There was just enough juice in the battery to make the call.

  He dialed Jessica's number.

  When she answered, he said, "Hey. Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday."

  "Oh. I didn't recognize the number."

  He jogged back to the house. "I'm having trouble with my phone. I borrowed a friend's. What's up?"

  "It's Hunter." Her voice sounded strained.

  "What's wrong?"

  "We didn't end up going out of town. He's sick."

  Rick closed the cabin door behind him. "Sick how? Like, really sick, or..."

  "Doctors aren't sure what it is yet. They ran a bunch of tests. They're worried, because the fever came on really fast
."

  "Is he at home?"

  "In the hospital. I thought..." She sounded like she was about to cry. "I know it's a lot to ask, but he's asking for you. Any chance you could stop by tonight?"

  Rick raked his hand through his short hair. Tonight was impossible. Tomorrow would be difficult. If he could wrap this up... "I'm out of town. I should be home tomorrow or Monday."

  "Are you sure you can't get here...?"

  "You know I'd do anything for Hunter. Tomorrow's the best I can do."

  "Okay. I'd really appreciate it." Jessica sounded relieved. He'd never known her to be that much of a worry-wart. Something must be really wrong with his little brother.

  "Anything for Hunter." Rick meant it, too. His older brothers were big, boring turds. But Hunter, even if he was only Rick's half-brother, meant more to him than Andrew and John combined. That was his only regret about moving to SoCal. He'd miss the kid. "Hey, can I talk to him?"

  "Oh. Actually, he's asleep right now, and he's really weak." There was a pause. "But if he's feeling better when he wakes up, I'll have him call you."

  "Okay. Use this number. Maybe he just needs to get some rest."

  "I hope you're right," Jessica said. "Listen, just call when you're on your way. I don't know if we'll be in the hospital or home, so—"

  "Sure. I'll give you a ring when I'm on my way, let you know when to expect me."

  "Thanks, Rick. I really appreciate it."

  After he finished the call with Jessica, he powered Leslie's burner off. Hunter, sick. That wasn't okay, not at all. Rick would try to step up the timeline to get there as soon as possible.

  He'd been waiting for Boyle's friends to leave most of the day, and he couldn't wait any longer. Who cared if they were there when he called? Maybe that's exactly what they were waiting for. If that was the case, they'd leave when the call came in.

  Might as well give them what they wanted. Make them feel like they had some control.

  He snatched his burner phone and dialed.

  Chapter 29

  MARISA'S PHONE RANG.

  She pulled it out of her pocket while the others gathered around the kitchen table where they'd been eating an early dinner.

  The few bites Marisa had taken of the lasagna Sam had brought turned in her stomach as she met Nate's eyes.

  "Go ahead," he said.

  She connected the call. "Hello."

  "Did you get my money?"

  "Almost."

  "Almost doesn't cut it."

  "I want to speak with Ana."

  "You talk to her when I say."

  Her heart raced, but she wasn't backing down. "You won't get a penny if I don't talk to my daughter."

  "Have you forgotten who makes the rules? I do. You don't speak to your daughter until—"

  "If you want to see one red cent of that money, you'll put my daughter on the phone. Now!"

  Her entire body trembled. She glanced at her friends. Their wide eyes and open mouths told her she'd gone too far.

  Silence on the other end of the phone. Had he hung up? Had she killed Ana?

  "Whatever," Rick said. "Hold on."

  Marisa's heart restarted. Barely. She met Nate's eyes and nodded.

  His hand slid around her back, and he leaned in to listen. Marisa glanced at the expectant faces around the table and attempted a smile. She stared back at the table and begged God as she listened to sounds coming through the phone. A door closed—sounded like a screen. Then it was quiet. Then a door creaked.

  "Come here, kid. Talk to your mother."

  "Mama?"

  Ana's little voice drifted from far away.

  The man's voice came back. "Did you hear that?"

  Marisa wasn't settling for that. It could have been a recording. "Put her on the phone."

  "You can talk to her when I get my money."

  "Put her on the phone right now, or you'll get nothing. For all I know, you recorded her voice."

  "Pretty demanding for someone holding none of the cards."

  Her ire rose. She waited until she knew she could speak calmly. "I'm holding two million cards. Put my daughter on the phone."

  Nate met her eyes and mouthed, good job.

  She looked back at the table and waited. Just a second passed before she heard the most beautiful voice in the world.

  "Mama?"

  "Ana, baby, are you okay?"

  "I want to go home. I don't know where Aunt Leslie is. The man said she left. Why would she leave without me?"

  Marisa's eyes filled with tears at her daughter's sad voice. "I'm sure she didn't want to, pajarita."

  "Mama, he says I have to go. I love you."

  "Love you, too."

  Nate tapped her back, and she turned to him. He mouthed, Leslie.

  She nodded as, through the phone, a door slammed. The man's voice came on. "Satisfied?"

  "Where's my sister?"

  "Like your kid said, she had to go."

  "What did you do to her?"

  "Your daughter's all right. If I were you, I'd focus on that."

  Marisa let the moment drag, let the man think she was considering that.

  "So you got my money?" Rick asked.

  She took a breath and rehearsed the story they'd decided to tell. "I spent most of the morning at the bank trying to get it today, but there are rules about these things. It's in a mutual fund—"

  "You put my money in a mutual fund?"

  She swallowed and looked at Nate. He seemed to be asking if she needed help, but no. She could handle this.

  "I never had the money," she said. "The person who took it put it in a mutual fund."

  "Right. And they're just giving it to you out of the goodness of their heart."

  She tempered her reply. "Some people care about children."

  "I care about children. Just not little Mexican brats."

  Her blood pulsed through her veins. She'd never been a violent person, but if this man were standing in front of her right now, Marisa would kill him. She tamped down the rage and said nothing.

  "You spent the morning at the bank?" he asked.

  "The money will be deposited into my account on Monday, they said first thing in the morning."

  "I thought you wanted your kid back ASAP. You couldn't get them to expedite it for you?"

  "Probably, if we'd called the police. But you said not to do that."

  Silence. It stretched until Marisa started to say something else. Nate shook his head. Wait.

  So she waited.

  After a minute, he said, "Fine. I'll be in touch Monday."

  "Are we going to make the exchange in New York?"

  "Like I said, I'll be in touch."

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 30

  RICK NEARLY THREW THE burner phone in a fit of rage.

  Spent the morning at the bank? They hadn't left the cabin.

  They were playing him. They were trying to set a trap for him. They had no idea who they were dealing with. No idea.

  Lucky for him, he didn't have to wait for Monday to get the information he needed.

  This whole thing would be finished tonight.

  Chapter 31

  NATE SHUT OFF THE LIGHT, pulled up the covers on the queen-sized bed, and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't left the house all day, had barely left the great room, but he was exhausted. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep, knowing the next day this would all be over. If their plan worked, Richard would go to visit Hunter, and the FBI would catch him in their net. Richard had kept her alive all this time. Surely, he'd keep her alive until he got his money. And once he was in custody, he'd have no choice but to tell the agents where Ana was.

  It was all going to end well. Nate was sure of it. Or as close to sure as he could be, when so many things could go wrong. Things he didn't want to think about right now, when he needed to sleep. He hadn't slept well since this whole ordeal started, and who could blame him? He didn't know how Marisa was handling it.

>   Marisa.

  They'd kissed. In that moment, he'd felt all his fears crumble away, felt all his hopes return. In that moment, he'd felt at home in a way he never had before. In that moment, he'd known he would never be the same.

  But she'd pulled away. Had he ruined everything, in that moment?

  What kind of a man took advantage of a woman going through the trauma Marisa was facing? He was lucky she hadn't slapped his face. There'd been no tension between them all afternoon, but what would happen when Marisa got Ana back? Would they return to Mexico? Or would she choose to live in her house in Queens and raise her daughter and leave Nate behind? Marisa didn't need Nate. Once this was all over, she'd thank him profusely and walk away.

  He'd had his heart broken before. Rae'd broken it pretty soundly all those years ago. But the feelings he'd had for Rae had been nothing, nothing compared to how he felt about Marisa. Maybe the situation was making everything feel stronger. Maybe when Ana was back and there was no life-or-death situation hanging over their heads, maybe his feelings would fade.

  He wouldn't count on it.

  He shifted to his side and squeezed his eyes closed. He had to sleep.

  But sleep wasn't coming.

  A soft shuffling sounded near the door. He opened his eyes and watched in the dark as a tall, slender form moved into his room.

  "Are you awake?" Marisa's voice was a whisper.

  He propped up on one elbow. "Are you okay?"

  "I can't sleep, and I thought...I mean...I just can't be alone."

  Thank God he was wearing pajama pants.

  "You want to lie down in here for a while?"

  "Would you mind?"

  He flipped the covers back on the opposite side of the bed, and Marisa tiptoed across the room and slipped in. "You sure it's okay?" Her voice came from the pillow. He could hardly see her face, but her dark hair lay in contrast to the white sheets. She'd taken the braid out, and he itched to run his fingers through her long strands.

  He swallowed to keep his voice level, to hide the reaction the rest of him was having to her being in his bed. He shifted to face her and propped his head on his hand, as if this were a perfectly normal situation. "You want to talk, or do you just want to sleep?"