by Ines Saint
The words “safely assume” gave him away. He was merely covering his ass.
Twenty minutes later, Alex was packing files. It had been decided by everyone that he should work his cases from the Dayton satellite office for the time being. The irony was that any success at recovering data that could lead to the creation of a bioweapon would all but guarantee McGee’s promotion.
Working out of Dayton was starting to look good, though. His case load was heavy, the way he liked it. There were three, high priority, secondary team assignments he was working on with other offices. All involved following the money. It was one of his strong suits. A less hostile work environment would go far in helping him wrap his head around those cases. His other cases would take him all over the Northern Kentucky, Cincinnati, Dayton, and Springfield regions, and he’d need to shift a few of those responsibilities for the time being.
It would get things moving in the right direction, faster. Time hadn’t been on their side before, and now it felt like their number-one enemy. Part of Ruby, Rosa, and Sherry’s plan involved him moving in next to Paige. That would give him constant, unfettered access to the town, and help him keep an eye on Glenn whenever he was around to pick up or visit the kids. It would also drive Glenn nuts, and possibly cause him to make a mistake.
On their way out, Boyd finished filling Jerome in on the details. “Do you think Paige Galloway will agree to cooperate, or stay out of your way if she doesn’t?” he asked.
“I’ll make sure she knows her only other choice is to be charged with interfering with a federal investigation.”
Jerome stopped him. “You do understand she’s only trying to do what’s best for her two kids and that, right now, it’s not easy to know what’s best, don’t you?”
Alex’s mind went straight to one of his last SWAT raids and the memory that haunted him most: a child sobbing in a stairwell, and the uncomfortable excuses, truths, and accusations the child’s mother had hurled their way as she was cuffed and taken away.
Glenn Galloway would most likely get away with everything he’d done, and still have the trust fund his parents used to control him waiting for him someday. His kids had wealthy grandparents who doted on them, and from what he’d seen in Spinning Hills, a network of people who’d love them. “Right. And first thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to make that best choice clear.”
Chapter 3
“What are you doing?” Hope demanded from the open door.
Gracie was right behind her.
Oh no. They were beginning to ramp up their “being there for her.” Paige quickly shut the screen on her MacBook. She hadn’t even heard them knock. Probably because they hadn’t bothered. “Looking at job listings, you know, just in case things don’t work out like I want them to,” she lied as she got up to go to the kitchen. She’d distract them with coffee. “I’m thinking something that has to do with fund-raising for a nonprofit, because it’s the only experience I truly have. I’ve never really used my nursing degree.”
“That’s because your true major was pre-wed. Remember how you dreamed about marrying an MD and living happily ever after?” Hope asked. Paige did remember, but she didn’t know how Hope knew that. It wasn’t like she had kept a diary of her dreams.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pushed back her anger and picked up the carafe. Hope had to know why she used to dream about those things, but still she chose to harass her. When she turned to offer them coffee, she saw Gracie was standing in front of the computer, about to pop the screen back up. Paige braced herself.
“You were on Facebook. Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asked, looking and sounding exasperated.
Paige poured herself some more coffee, buying time while she thought of ways to get rid of them quickly. She couldn’t take much more of their questioning and monitoring. She was close to snapping in two. At least they wouldn’t be around much the following week. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was checking to see if anyone in my network knows of any job openings that match my skills and education. I’ve got tons of messages to go through, so if you’ll excuse me—”
Hope went to stand by Gracie. Her mouth opened. “You’re cyberstalking Charlene McBride!”
Paige ran over and tried to shut the MacBook again. “I’m not stalking anybody. She’s letting me know how the bazaar planning is going. I’m hoping she’ll give me a reference for a fund-raising job . . .”
Hope stared at her for a long moment. “You’re not looking for a job, Paige, you’re still in denial. Instead of getting on employment websites, you’re worried about the stupid bizarre bazaar you used to put on.”
“No. You’re in denial, because you’re a bossy know-it-all who’s always preaching doomsday scenarios.” Paige’s hands curled into fists. “Indictment doesn’t mean guilt. I’ve looked up plenty of cases where the feds jumped the gun and were dead wrong.” It always temporarily buoyed her heavy spirits every time she saw a case where the feds had messed up. There were plenty of examples. “And our bazaar is not bizarre. Many women from surrounding, less-fortunate areas are able to buy gently used, high-quality goods. I plan to use its success on my résumé.”
Gracie sent Hope an imploring look and said, “Let’s not fight,” before turning to Paige. “And it’s not Hope who calls it that.” She hesitated. “The Hidden Bend Humble Braggers Bizarre Bazaar. That’s what women this side of the Ohio River call it.”
Paige felt hot then cold. Humble Braggers . . . ? She shook her head. “How would you even know? You don’t live anywhere near here. Hope probably came up with that, and you believed her.”
Hope stared at the ceiling, as if it had more sense than her older sister. “Rosa told Ruby, and Ruby let it slip.”
Paige folded her arms across her chest. “Right. Rosa goes every year, and she’s one of our biggest spenders. I doubt she criticizes it.”
Gracie shook her head. “Paige, you need to get your head out of the Hidden Bend Bubble. No one is saying it wasn’t a good idea to start with—a fund-raising garage sale of sorts, but with quality used items only wealthy people can afford to let go of at low prices. But it became something else. It became another competition between all these people who forget there’s a real world outside their impeccability. All they wanted to do was show off how they could buy the latest and greatest, and then let it go for a steal because they have enough money to buy the newest latest and greatest. People who go there to score deals laugh at how clueless you all are. And it’s all in the name of raising money for private prep schools that already have more money than a dozen surrounding public school districts combined. Is that really how you want to live the rest of your life? The example you want to set for Riley and Tyler?”
Gracie’s voice was so gentle, it was hard to believe she had just spat at the very core of Paige’s life: her kids, their school, and their community. “You two will never understand. You’re single by choice, and your lives are all about your careers. Caring about community and raising well-rounded, emotionally healthy children who will one day do the same is a worthy cause in and of itself.”
She looked over at the Facebook page open on her computer. While they’d been arguing, Charlene had posted a new status update. “Remember: This year, we’ll be donating ten percent of our profits to Jane Westwood’s new charity: the Greater Cincinnati Orphaned Puppy Fund.” At least ten replies stating, “Great idea!” “Way to go, Charlene!” “Nice job!” “Yes! We’re so fortunate, let’s spread that fortune around, girls!” had popped up underneath.
Paige’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head. What the—? “Donating to a charity was my idea! To a worthy one! Not that made-up silliness! We already have shelters that need money, and she comes up with this! And now we’re donating to it!”
Before Paige could read anymore, Hope pushed her backward onto the couch and straddled her. “Send in a request to delete her account!” she commanded Gracie.
�
��No!” Paige became wild. But, damn, Hope was strong. The door opened, and Ruby, Rosa, and Sherry ran in. “This is getting out of hand!” Grandma Sherry said. “We can hear the whole thing outside.”
“Stop her!” Paige nodded toward Gracie. “She’s disrespecting my property and invading my privacy!” They wanted to delete her last connection to the life she and her kids wanted to get back to. Not a day went by when both kids didn’t ask about their old house, and whether she and Glenn would get back together.
Paige managed to shove Hope off of her, but when she tried to get up from the couch, Ruby, Rosa, and Grandma Sherry helped wrestle her back down.
“It’s for your own good!” her grandmother grunted.
“Help! It’s asking for me to confirm her password!” Gracie called.
“Try Riley’s and Tyler’s birthdates,” Hope instructed.
Gracie’s hands flew over the keyboard. “It didn’t work!”
“Switch the order!” Ruby yelled.
“Success!”
They were all calm again, as if they didn’t have a wiggling, struggling, furious Paige pinned to the couch cushions. “You’re all mean and disrespectful bullies! You don’t really care about me or the kids, you care about being right. And you’re violent!”
“If we’re being disrespectful, it’s only because we love you, not because we’re mean bullies or because we give a damn about being right.” Her grandmother looked down at her from where she was sitting atop her belly. “This constant connection with your old life is keeping all of you from moving on. You need to quit cold turkey. Give yourself two weeks of Facebook detox and you’ll thank us. I promise. And how violent can three little old ladies be? Really, Paige. You go too far.”
She went too far? The nerve!
“Yes,” Ruby agreed. Paige rolled her eyes backward to try to look at the woman who was holding her hands above her head. “Two weeks should do the trick. If your fingers get itchy, and you find yourself reaching for the computer, do something else. Like knit.”
Paige couldn’t cover her face, so she scrunched it up instead. “None of you get it. Glenn is innocent. He was in the wrong place, caught with the right information, at the wrong time. It’s all getting sorted out. He told the kids so.”
Grandma Sherry got off of her, and everyone else let her go. “We know that you want to get back to your old life, but your old life is not coming back. You need to accept it, and you need to formulate a new plan. You can’t just sit here, surfing the web for dirt on the feds and trolling people from your old life.”
Paige got up, suddenly drained of fight. They were right. She had been wallowing in self-pity the past two days, and most nights before that when the kids went to sleep. It was hard not to. Life had wrung enough from her growing up. It felt as if she’d paid her dues. But life didn’t owe anyone anything. Still . . . It was hard to make new plans for the future when everything inside her was resisting, and when she had no idea what really came next. “I don’t know why you’re all so sure I can’t get my old life back.”
There was a flurry of exchanged glances, all of them loaded. Paige straightened. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“There are two men outside who wish to speak with you.”
“Men,” Paige repeated. As in federal investigators. Warning zings shot up and down her spine and her stomach hollowed out. Agents had been there the whole time? She glowered at her sisters. They were nothing if not loyal to each other. How could they? Her head then snapped to her grandmother, Ruby, and Rosa. The feds had been at the café the day before, but all three women had assured her it had only been a routine search that had yielded nothing.
Grandma Sherry met her accusing glare with a warning one of her own. “What’s best for your kids is you getting your head out of the past and into what’s going on around you right now.”
“Get up. Wash your face. Get dressed,” Hope drilled. “It’s what we came in here for.”
“Now you tell me?” Paige demanded.
She fumed, but did as she was told. If the Federal Bureau of Idiots was harassing her grandmother, her sisters, and her oldest friends, then they were the ones who were in for it. She’d been giving them hell in her mind for the past two months. It was time to get it all out.
She washed her face, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and put on the first pair of jeans and T-shirt she could find. A look in the mirror told her she was no fashion plate today, but she looked clean and presentable.
Paige swept past everyone in her living room, opened the door, and ordered everyone “Out!”
“Excuse me?” Hope narrowed her eyes at her.
“You heard me.”
“But—”
“I. Said. Out.” Her demonic voice had crept in. She’d brook no arguments. She turned to the men in the boring copycat black suits and sunglasses. She recognized both of them immediately. KGB-Man and Nice Enough New Yorker.
“Understood. We’ll be right outside the door if you need us.” Her grandmother ushered everyone out the door.
Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she remembered them well. They were the exact color of chrome tourmaline. Richly green because of the presence of chromium. Chromium was toxic. And Paige knew those toxic green eyes were fixed on her.
“You can stay out here and try to keep them all in check,” she said to Nice Enough New Yorker. He’d been the only agent to be kind to her the day they’d blown her life apart. But she didn’t want to talk to him because she didn’t want anyone from the bureau feeling sorry for her. “Agent Hooke and I can handle this without any of you.” Oh yes, she remembered his name. She’d written a five-page complaint about him and sent it to FBI Headquarters.
She hadn’t heard back.
* * *
Alex turned back to Paige Galloway and studied her from behind his sunglasses. Never one to flinch, he’d raised his eyebrows—more surprised by his reaction to her demonic voice than to the voice itself. For some reason, it gave him all the same symptoms a turn-on did. The realization rattled his nerves as much as they could be rattled, which admittedly wasn’t much. It helped to know his reaction had nothing to do with Mrs. Galloway and everything to do with his messed-up taste in women. Still, he much preferred his reactions to her sugary voice—the one that set his teeth on edge.
He stared down at her, mouth set and unmoving. A nervous person was more likely to shut up and listen. But Paige simply folded her arms and looked up at him. He took note of the roots in her hair. He’d thought her hair was naturally honey blond, but her new-grown hair was more of a chestnut brown. She had no makeup on, and she didn’t need any. The baby blue eyes glaring up at him weren’t empty this time. She was nervous. All the telltale signs were there. Her stance was closed, her mouth was dry, and she was blinking.
She was also her version of mad, which, with the exception of the impressive baritone she’d used, looked more like a pouting Barbie doll than an intimidating woman.
She glanced at her watch, an expensive brand that likely cost more than every watch he’d ever bought added up together. Alex stepped in, and she slammed the door behind him. “Take your sunglasses off,” she ordered. “Except for your partner out there, all of you oafs need a lesson in good manners.”
Someone needed to learn manners, and it wasn’t him. Alex set his jaw, took his sunglasses off, and locked eyes with her for a good long moment. But instead of backing down, a clear challenge flashed behind her dim blue lights. He felt a hit somewhere between his gut and . . . lower. It made him madder than he’d been since he’d started the investigation, but he was self-aware enough to know he was angry at himself.
He schooled his features into an expressionless mask, but held her eyes with an authoritative look. “Mrs. Galloway, I’m here because your charming grandmother and her friends feel cooperation is in everyone’s best interest. I’m asking you to keep an open mind while I lay out our case, its various possible outcomes, and what it all means for your family. If yo
u’d like, we can call everyone else back in.” He hoped she wouldn’t. Somehow, the women involved in the case had grown to six.
“No.” Paige gave her head a quick shake before ungraciously motioning him over to the sofa. He took a seat, planting his feet wide, and intertwining his fingers between his legs.
A half-eaten pizza was sitting on the coffee table, along with candy wrappers and two opened bags of chips. The pizza looked homemade and smelled delicious. He hadn’t had a good slice of pizza since he was ten. He tore his eyes away. “Do you understand what your husband stands accused of, Mrs. Galloway?”
She gave her head a short nod, but her lips tightened into a pale, thin line.
“Can you tell me exactly what you understand is happening so that I can fill in the blanks and we don’t waste each other’s time?” She’d been interviewed three times already, but she’d known she was being interviewed, which usually made people guarded. Though she was equally on guard now, he thought making this seem more like a conversation might get her to slip up and give him some new information. But she remained silent. “Mrs. Galloway, your cooperation can make things easier for you, your kids, and—”
“Is that another one of your thinly veiled threats?”
He allowed his own guard down for a millisecond, enough to send her an earnest look. The look was real and, though he didn’t use it often, when he did it always served him well. “No, it’s not. Not in the least.”
Paige took a few steadying breaths, but when she spoke, her voice was shaky nonetheless. “Glenn is being investigated for intellectual property theft, money laundering, and tax evasion. The federal government believes he’s part of a long-running conspiracy to steal data on commercially viable technology and sell it to pharmaceutical companies, technology companies, and manufacturers. I know you stormed into our home and tore it apart looking for, among other things, a journal belonging to sweet Dr. Kumar, who is a good friend of my father-in-law and who has known Glenn since he was a boy. She herself doubts Glenn has anything to do with any of it. I also believe Glenn is innocent. He makes a very good living, and he wouldn’t risk his reputation, his family’s ties to the university and the community, his job, and his freedom, for money.”
