Full Disclosure

by Dee Henderson

  “That is Ann too.”

  “What happened?”

  “I only know what she’s told me, and she’s told me precious little.”

  “I don’t know what to do with the information, Vicky.”

  “You will. When it most matters, you’ll have figured it out.

  “She’s got a good heart, Paul. She’ll give you a chance, but she’ll stay cautious until she’s made a decision. She will like to know your story. Who you are and where you come from. She will like to meet your family, for seeing how you are with them will tell her more about you than anything you could say. She’s quiet waters, with a lot underneath you don’t see. But she’s fair, and she’ll be inclined to like you. She likes cops as a rule.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  He could hear a hum in the background and the sound of muted voices. “I should have asked when this call began where you are tonight.”

  “Over the Pacific Ocean in a vast airliner lazily circling as the night sky fills with stars. We’ll climb to high altitude at midnight and begin taking pictures of the Pella comet as the debris trail crosses into the atmosphere. And while we are there enjoying the view, we might take a couple thousand close-up photos of the satellite that popped up in stationary orbit unannounced a month ago.”

  “I thought you were going to stay retired, Vicky.”

  “I brought the coffee,” she replied with a laugh. “Seriously, there are enough satellite geeks on board wanting to decipher the new toy in the sky and who put it there, that the boss needed an adult to come along so someone remembered to take pictures of the comet. Pretty gnarly mess, going on a trip to take pictures of a comet and not take pictures of the comet.”

  “Would you bring me one of the better ones? Ann likes to stargaze.”

  “Gladly. It’s a fun job tonight, Paul, so don’t worry about me. I’ll call you when I get home, and we’ll have a longer conversation.”

  “Thanks, Vicky.”

  Paul stood at his office window, watching the moon rise and the occasional plane trail across the night sky, waiting for the ten o’clock alarm. When it signaled, he shut it off and returned to his desk.

  He knew the number by heart but still looked it up in the case file before he dialed. Ann answered on the third ring.

  “Ann, it’s Paul.”

  “Just a sec, Paul, I’ll bring up video.”

  He looked to his screen and her image appeared, flickered, and smoothed out. She offered a quick smile in greeting, and he smiled back. He put down his phone and switched over to the secure conference call. “You remembered the code.”

  “Numbers tend to stick for some reason.”

  He wasn’t sure what was on the wall behind her, but he realized with some interest he might be seeing where she lived. “You’re home?”

  “Just got in.” She turned the screen and camera to show him the room. Lamps on tables lit the room, and he saw a dark burgundy couch, two wingback chairs, tables stacked with books, and what looked like an easel at the edge of the camera’s view. The wall opposite the couch looked like his conference room walls, scattered with photos and timelines and colored marker notes. As she turned the camera back, it passed over something moving, and a dark mass of hair wiped out the lower inch of the monitor’s view. A dog, a big, massive dog.

  “It looks like a comfortable place to work on a murder.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the cluttered wall and turned back to him with a smile. “That one’s a book rather than the job.”

  “You build your books, then, like you do your cases.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “A place about six miles north of Medora.”

  “Is that your dog pushing at you? I can see part of an ear.”

  “I promised him a walk. I’m not supposed to sit down.”

  Ann tilted the camera and he got a screen full of dog face looking back at him.

  “This is Midnight. I just call him Black.”

  Paul laughed. “He’s handsome and beautiful and very big.”

  “His feet are like dinner plates.”

  “I always wanted a dog. They just don’t deserve city buildings and elevators and lots of asphalt.”

  “Live downtown?”

  Paul nodded. “One of those old brick buildings that survived the Chicago fire. My family has owned the fourth floor for the last eighty years. It used to be my grandfather’s home.”

  “I like the art behind you.”

  “Yeah?”

  He slid out of the way so she could better see the canvas. “It’s one of several of hers I’ve collected. I like the way she handles her blues. I could send you a print if you like. I’ve got a connection that can get her lithographs.”

  “Pocket that idea until you need a favor.”

  “Feels like I already got one, Ann. I am going to enjoy spending your money. I’m sending teams out to sixty-four cities without any bureaucratic delays. So thank you again. When the roses arrive, you’re going to put them on your desk and enjoy them.”

  She smiled at the news. “I’ll find a place for them.”

  “It was a very nice thing to do.”

  “I gather I caused you some problems with how it was done.”

  “You caused curiosity on the part of a lot of people over what had happened and why. Rumors were flying that I had an in with the Treasury secretary. The budget office personnel were in a tizzy as they had never seen his name on a budget transfer before. And I didn’t really have answers to give them. Ann, what did you do?”

  “Called a friend.” She shrugged. “It was going to get messy if I didn’t do something, because the award was there, and it’s a good reason to have a press conference and announce they caught the currency thief, and I’d get my arm twisted to be there and accept the award—I had to do something to cut it off before it went that far.

  “I called a friend at the Department of Justice and said the award would be a problem for me, and since the money could solve a problem for you, I asked if it could be transferred. She said yes. I said thank you. That’s all I did. She’s a lawyer and actually likes paperwork. I thought she would talk to the director of the award program, figure out the right paperwork, and get it to the right person. It obviously turned out to be more than that.”

  “Can you ask her what she did?”

  Ann hesitated, and then nodded. “Since I made such a mess of the gift . . . hold on.”

  She picked up her phone, pushed her dog to move him over, and disappeared from video to make a call.

  She looked relieved when she returned.

  “She talked to the director of the award program. He said no problem, but it was complicated because it was one government agency to another. So she called her fiancé and explained the problem. He talked to his boss. His boss made two calls. The Treasury secretary said okay, the FBI director said okay, and the Treasury secretary sent the award money to your budget line. It took twenty minutes. It was done before I finished that second mug of hot chocolate you brought.” Ann smiled. “That’s what a friend does. They make an intolerable problem go away for you. A press conference is an intolerable problem for me. So she said yes and handled it.”

  “Who’s her fiancé?”

  “Reece Lion. He’s Secret Service, the lead agent for the former VP. I introduced them. He wouldn’t have thought twice about helping her out, and the VP is a nice guy. He used to be the FBI director back when the lady shooter first began killing, so making a couple of calls to arrange the money transfer would have been something he’d appreciate doing. It took twenty minutes, my call to my friend, to transfer of the funds. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

  Paul could tell she really believed it wasn’t that big a deal. “Ann, answer me this. Are you surprised the Treasury secretary was personally involved in fulfilling your request?”

  She looked perplexed. “No. I needed the person who could move the money between department
s, and that turned out to be the Treasury secretary. My request passed along a line of friends until someone had the ability to solve the matter, and they did.”

  “Help me understand, Ann. Is the former VP one of your friends?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “So you could have called the former VP. You have his number.”

  She reluctantly confirmed it. “I have his number.”

  “You called your friend at Justice.”

  “I thought it was going to be one call to the award director and paperwork, Paul. Of course I called her. I hate paperwork. I could have called the VP, but why would I? If you go higher than you need to, you’re only doing it to show someone else that you can. It’s unnecessary, wastes your friend’s time, and shows your own poor judgment. The fact this request ended up at the VP shows how bureaucratic the government is. My name was on the award money. I should have been able to send it anywhere I wanted and gotten a thank-you instead of someone saying we can’t take it without approval.”

  Paul started to smile. “I see why Dave said you could manage the Falcons just fine.”

  “What?”

  “For another time.”

  “I’m sorry for this mess. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise, having the budget delays dealt with, that’s why I didn’t tell you what I was going to do when I declined the award money. It was intended to be a pleasant surprise. It’s probably the last one I try to do for a few months. No wonder I hate surprises myself.”

  “The thought was nice, the outcome is appreciated, and I learned a whole lot about you, so it didn’t turn out that bad. What color of roses do you prefer?”

  “Pink,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Are you going to be home for a few days?”

  “I’m normally home. The phone rings with a case, I’m not home anymore. I don’t mind the unpredictable schedule. I get to spend a lot of time flying. A neighbor watches my place when I’m away.”

  “You like the job.”

  “Love it, as a rule. I just wish there were fewer homicides to work.”

  “Email me your address, and I’ll have a nice bouquet arriving tomorrow.”

  “Send it to the sheriff’s office here in town, if you don’t mind. The job’s over at the end of the month when the county takes over policing, but there’s enough packing of case files and evidence in storage to be transferred to the county that I’m spending most of my time there.”

  “I’ll do that then. Oh, one other thing . . . another piece of information I should mention. My brother Boone is married to Vicky Bassett.”

  He saw brief intense surprise cross her face and relaxed when he saw it. She hadn’t known the connection. “When you came to Chicago you didn’t realize who I was?”

  “I obviously recognized the Falcon name. I figured you were related indirectly, second cousins or something. You don’t look like your brother.”

  “I’m the adopted oldest, and Boone’s next to the youngest. I’ve read Vicky’s story. You write a nice book.”

  “Thanks.”

  He was fascinated to see the start of a blush.

  “She asked me to write the book because she couldn’t tell her family what had happened during the years she was gone. It was her story, but it was fiction. She was in Asia, not Europe, during those years. Did she tell you about the book? I thought I had her identity camouflaged pretty well.”

  “I recognized the evergreen falling on the garage.”

  “I debated back and forth putting that in the book. I was there when it happened and it was so sidesplitting funny, I just couldn’t resist.”

  “I could see it just as you described. You’ve got a good friend in Vicky, Ann. I’m glad you two know each other.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t bumped into each other in her kitchen, swiping a piece of apple pie.”

  “She does make a really good pie.”

  Paul wanted to end the conversation on a smile and this felt like a good point. “I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good night, Ann.”

  “’Night, Paul.”

  Without referencing the reason he had gone, Paul posted pictures to his family the next morning from his late-night trip. “I watched someone turn down half a million dollars this week. I wish I could tell you that entire story. It was quite a trip.”

  “Him or her?” his father emailed back.

  What was his dad doing up this early? “Her.”

  “Nice. Coming to dinner this weekend?”

  “Planning to.”

  “Bring her to dinner.”

  “Maybe someday.” Paul wisely redirected the conversation. “How’s Mom?”

  The roses were gorgeous. Ann smiled as she placed them on her desk, where everyone who came through the sheriff’s office would see them. She anticipated her first Who’s your beau? question would come before noon. She loved the small-town interest. She fingered one of the rose petals. She would say they were a thank-you gift. That was true enough, and kind of Paul. She had wondered how he would take the gift of funds and he’d surprised her by accepting them without much of a fuss. The lady shooter needed caught, and she needed to avoid a press conference. She was comfortable that her decision to decline the award had been the right one.

  Paul Falcon was an interesting guy. She should have listened better in the past when Dave had talked about his friend. They had for years overlapped friends, but not in schedules or she would have met him some time ago. She’d had in the back of her mind that he was seeing Gina Lewis, and hadn’t paid much attention when that had changed.

  Paul wasn’t seeing anyone now, she knew. Kate’s antenna had been quivering at the idea of Paul and Ann getting together—Kate had already made a pitch for Ann to fly north for dinner.

  Ann picked up another packing box and turned her attention to her desk drawers. She had pleaded off with too much work, and it was true enough. But she’d ducked Kate’s invitation because she was still uncertain if she wanted to follow it. She sensed an interest on Paul’s part, but a casual one. The roses were an interesting choice of a thank-you, and hard to read. A guy sent a lady roses, it was some degree of personal. And she felt just a bit of interest in return. But patience defined how she treated guys and possible situations, and she wasn’t inclined to do more than wait and enjoy the roses.

  She liked his personality. He had driven hours to deliver a message, tracked her down in Nebraska with hot chocolate, asked thoughtful questions about her work. There was a lot to enjoy. He put effort into people, and she admired that trait. He’d make a good friend. If Paul was interested in pursuing matters, he would let her know. Ann stepped around her dog and got the roll of tape. She paused to smell the nearest rose again and smiled at the gift.

  Paul studied his calendar, thinking through options. Most of his team would be traveling for the next two months conducting interviews. A skeleton staff left behind could handle the other active cases on the board. He had seven experienced guys in the group, who were fully able to run their cases without assistance. He was wise enough to let them. He had a lot to supervise but not too much pressing on his day-to-day. It would get intense again if one of the lady shooter interviews turned up something.

  If he wanted to get away for a few days, sometime during the next two months would be his best chance. It looked like his personal schedule opened up in about two weeks. He went to find Sam. He’d take a few days at the end of the month. Ann was worth pursuing, and it was time.

  9

  Paul navigated the country roads, the numbers marking the fields and the crossroads beginning to make sense the more of them he read. He looked again at the photo he held, then at the house up ahead, and knew he had reached his destination. He pulled in behind a blue pickup truck and parked. He picked up the gift he had brought along with the sack Joe had sent, leaving his personal bags in the car.

  The mother of the FBI regional counterterrorism director stepped out on her por
ch. “Welcome, Paul. You made good time.”

  “I appreciate you letting me visit, Mrs. Rawlins.”

  “Neva, please. My son calls, says he’s sending a guest, I am too curious to say no. Then I hear it’s about Ann Silver and I know I have to meet you. You’ll stay, at least for a week.”

  “A weekend, Neva. It’s all I can—”

  “You can’t court someone in a weekend,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Ann doesn’t know I’m coming. A weekend will do for a surprise. A week would be an intrusion.” He stepped inside with her. “The gift with the bow would be my thanks, and the sack would be from your son. He had ideas about glassware and crystal and told me to take care on the delivery.”

  “Leave the sack for me on the kitchen table, and I’ll see if he found me the right pattern to match my mother’s collection. You’ll join me for lunch?”

  “I was thinking if you would direct me, I would see Ann first, then we would both join you for dinner?”

  Neva laughed and nodded. “She’s not much of a cook, so it might be wise. You’ll likely find her at the sheriff’s office. She calls if she’s had an MHI request, lets me know she’ll be away, so I’m certain she’s still in town.”

  She stepped back out on the porch with him. “The center of town and her office would be five miles west on the road you came in on, just stay to the right when the road splits off.” She pointed toward the trees in the distance. “And that would be her property from the trees and for the next half a mile.”

  “I’ll call you if we’ll be later than five.” He smiled. “Or if for some reason it will be just me.”

  “I’m glad for the company, but you didn’t come to see me. Dinner’s going to be my leftover roast beef for sandwiches, corn on the cob, and pie, and doesn’t need a particular time. I’ll expect you when I see you. And I’m partial to the late news and a movie, so you’ll not bother me by making it a late evening.”

  “Thanks.” Paul left the porch, stopped, and came back to lean against the base post of the porch railing. “Would you have any advice for me, knowing Ann as well as you do?”