The Woman He Knows

by Margaret Watson

  Patrick walked in and sat down on the bed. “Find anything?”

  She turned the computer and showed him the picture. “I’m assuming he got my name somehow. Once he did that, he had me.”

  “Damn it.” Patrick stared at the screen. “Who does our website?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Whoever it was had no idea I was trying to hide. It’s not their fault.”

  “I have to tell you some things,” she said quietly. She owed it to Patrick to tell him everything. He needed to know enough to protect himself and Mama’s employees.

  “Okay. Hold on a minute.” He stood at the top of the stairs. “Hey, Nate,” he called down. “I’ll be up here with Darcy for longer than I thought. Go ahead and make that phone call. Yell if you need anything. I’ll leave the door open.”

  Darcy heard Nathan’s laugh. “I need you to close the door if there’s something you don’t want me to hear,” he called back.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, bro. Darcy needs to talk to me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. The oldest excuse in the book.”

  Darcy touched his face as he sat on the bed. “You and Nathan both seem happier today.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” he said. “I’ve got you in my house every day, in my bed every night.”

  “That’s good,” she managed to say, although her throat was thick.

  “And Nate and I worked out some of our problems.”

  She swallowed. “I’m glad, Patrick.”

  “Restaurant business. Family stuff.” He picked up her hand and studied her fingers. “So what things do you need to tell me?”

  She wanted to lean into him, to soak up his heat, but she didn’t dare. So she straightened her spine. Took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Tried to calm her shaking hands. “My ex-husband’s name is Timothy Reynolds.”

  Patrick whirled to face her, but he didn’t say anything.

  “He was a police officer in Milwaukee. We got married six years ago. I was right out of college, working as a nurse, and my mother had just died. I was...lost. Alone.”

  His hand tightened around hers. “Go on.”

  His voice was grim. Hard. Instead of looking at him, she focused on their joined hands. “The abuse was like every other story you’ve heard, I guess. Started slowly, built up. I called the police once, but Tim was one of theirs. Nothing happened, and the beatings got worse. I didn’t call them again.”

  Patrick started to say something, and she put her hand over his mouth. “Let me finish before I chicken out, okay?”

  She cleared her throat. “He started to buy things. Expensive stuff we couldn’t afford. I asked him about it, and he told me to mind my own business. Then I found a program on his computer. He was running a business, so he kept records. Detailed ones.” She closed her eyes, remembering the shock.

  “He was working with a street gang. Collecting protection money from local businesses. Protecting drug dealers. He thought I was too stupid or too intimidated to break into his computer, but I was desperate. I dug deeper, and realized that he was skimming money from the gang and socking it away.”

  “What gang?” he asked, his voice flat.

  “The King Cobras.”

  “What did you do, Darcy?” His voice was low. Expressionless.

  “I put all the information from his books on a flash drive. Instead of going to work one day, I went to a shelter. Then I called the state police. Told them exactly where to find all the records, but I didn’t tell them about the skimming. Which was really stupid, because if I had, Tim probably would have gone to jail for a lot longer. But I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Then what?”

  “He was arrested. Tried. Sentenced to eight years in jail. I had my lawyer contact him. I told him I had copies of the evidence of the skimming. I said that if he didn’t agree to an uncontested divorce, I’d send that information to the gang. So he gave me the divorce. It was only after I got a new identity and left Milwaukee that I realized I’d made a mistake. By keeping the skimming records, I’d given Tim a reason to come after me. Although, truthfully, he probably would have, anyway. He doesn’t like to lose.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police when you figured that out?”

  “Because I knew I’d get into a lot of trouble.”

  “If he’s in prison, how could he be the one that broke into your house?”

  “He was released three months ago—crowded prison, time off for good behavior.”

  Patrick’s hand tightened on hers. His eyes were blue ice. “And he wants the evidence.”

  * * *

  PATRICK WANTED TO sweep Darcy into his arms and hold her close. Keep her safe. Protected.

  He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “He wants what’s on the flash drive.”

  “If you had told me this right away, we could have caught the guy,” he said, trying not to clench his teeth. “We would have gotten a picture. Had the cops looking for him.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she retorted. “He was a cop, too. He knows all the tricks.”

  “Give me some credit, Darcy. I know a few, too.”

  She stared at the floor and rubbed her toe over a bare spot on the faded carpet. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you. But I couldn’t. I wanted you to be safe. And I didn’t want you to see me as a victim. Someone weak.”

  Some of the anger faded. “You’re not a victim, Darcy. You’re one of the strongest people I know. To escape from your husband, protect yourself the way you did—no weak victim could have done that.” He gripped her hand harder as the ball of ice in his chest grew and grew. “Did you think you couldn’t trust me?”

  “No! I was trying to protect you.”

  “You were trying to protect me? That’s insane.”

  “And I wanted to keep you safe from my ex,” she said quietly. Too quietly. “I couldn’t tell you about Tim. If you didn’t know about him, you wouldn’t go after him.” She rubbed her hands along her thighs. “Until we...got involved, Tim didn’t care about you. He was focused on me.”

  He jumped up from the bed and paced the room. “Darcy, that is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. Protecting other people, and myself, is my job. It’s what I was trained to do. You should have told me as soon as you suspected it was him.”

  She stood up, too. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. Do you have any idea how I’d feel if Tim shot you because you were trying to shield me? I love you, Patrick. Of course I want to protect you.”

  She stood toe-to-toe with him. By the time she’d finished, she was yelling. But her words stole all the breath in his lungs. “You love me?” he managed to say.

  “Of course I do, you idiot. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I didn’t.”

  His pulse thundered in his ears. His chest tightened. “Darcy, I...”

  “Patrick,” Nathan bellowed from the first floor. “Get down here. We have a problem.”

  He grabbed Darcy’s upper arms. “We’re not done with this conversation.” He kissed her, hard. “And I love you, too.”

  He ran down the stairs. By the time he reached the living room, Darcy was coming down, as well. He hurried over to Nathan. “What?” he said, more sharply than he should have. Nate didn’t know what he’d interrupted.

  “Just talked to O’Fallon. He says he’s coming over here today. In a couple of hours.”

  “He can’t do that. We don’t have the money.” Or the wire he was supposed to wear. Or the FBI agents in place.

  “He was pissed off. He doesn’t want the money. He wants to keep collecting the interest. I told him it was sign off the loan, or I’m going public.”

  “Did you call Cal?”

  “Yeah. I told him what was going on, and
he said he’d get here as fast as he could. Might take time to put the money together, though.”

  “We can deal with that.” He pulled out his phone, called the Chicago FBI office and asked for the supervisor he’d spoken to earlier. “Change of plans. Has to happen today. In a couple of hours.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DARCY SANK ONTO the couch in the living room, still shaking. Nathan and Patrick were talking, both of them agitated. Upset. But she couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. Her mind was trying to wrap itself around what she’d just done.

  In the middle of a fight with Patrick, she’d blurted out “I love you.”

  And he’d blurted it back.

  Tears prickled in her eyes. Why had she said that? Knowing Patrick loved her made it a thousand times harder to leave.

  A tiny voice whispered that she didn’t have to leave. She could stay here and let Patrick and the police find Tim. Have a happily ever after.

  But Tim wouldn’t let that happen. She knew him. She thought of her trashed apartment. He was enraged. Boiling over. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He’d shoot first and ask questions later.

  Patrick would step in front of a bullet for her.

  It was even more important to leave now. She couldn’t let him take those risks.

  The couch dipped as Patrick sat down beside her and took her hand. “Nate and I have a bit of an emergency. Remember that problem at Mama’s I mentioned? Turns out that Theresa’s husband, the alderman, is involved in it. He loaned some money to Nate at an exorbitant interest rate. I’ll tell you the whole story later, but O’Fallon’s coming over here in a couple of hours to get his money, and we have to get everything set up.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying to process what Patrick was telling her.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near O’Fallon. I don’t want him to know you exist. So before he comes over, I’m going to have you leave. Could you go to FreeZone and stay with Frankie for the afternoon?”

  “I’m going to Mama’s this morning. Remember?” Her heart pounded in her ears, but apparently she’d managed to sound normal.

  “Okay. That’s okay.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “When you’re done there, go to FreeZone.”

  It was all falling into place. Patrick would be too busy with the alderman and whatever scheme he and Nate had concocted. By the time he realized she was gone, she’d be hours away from Chicago.

  “All right. Give me her address and I’ll use Google Maps to find it.”

  “I’ll have Danny Kopecki follow you over there and make sure no one’s on your tail. When we’re done, I’ll call you.”

  “Your friend doesn’t need to follow me,” she said, swallowing again. “It sounds as if you’ll need him here. I’ll park on the street in front of Mama’s, park right at the door to Frankie’s place. I’ll be fine.”

  “All right.” He cupped her face. “Sorry this is so rushed. But we have to deal with this right now.” He kissed her. “After it’s over, we’ll get some dinner. Just the two of us.” He kissed her again, lingered. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Sounds good.”

  His phone rang, and he grabbed it out of his pocket. He listened for a moment, then said, “Great, Kopecki. When you bring the wire over, could you stick around? We may need some backup.”

  After he disconnected, she glanced at her watch. “I need to get over to Mama’s.”

  “Okay, I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  “Let me get my purse.”

  She walked slowly up the stairs. Looked around Patrick’s room one more time. Inhaled his scent lingering in the air. Then straightened her shoulders and picked up her purse.

  Patrick was distracted as he walked her out to the car. His phone rang again, and this time it was the FBI. While he talked, she opened her car door and set her purse on the passenger’s seat.

  Patrick touched the off button on the phone and slid his hands down her arms to her hands. “The police will find your ex. Lock him up. We’ll get this thing with the alderman resolved. Then we’ll have time to sort things out between us.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I can’t wait.” Her lie made her feel dirty. Unbearably sad.

  “Be careful,” he said, pulling her close.

  “You, too.” She raised her head and kissed him, wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. Poured her heart into it.

  “Wow,” he said, rubbing his finger over her lips. “If this is the way you kiss me when you go on an errand, I’ll make sure there are plenty of them.”

  “Goodbye, Patrick,” she said, letting him go and sliding into the car. He smiled and waved as she drove off.

  When she turned the corner, she glanced back. Patrick still stood on the street, watching her disappear.

  * * *

  BEFORE SHE LEFT town, Darcy had to retrieve one last thing from her apartment. It wasn’t smart to return, but she had no choice. Without her money, she wouldn’t be able to survive.

  She drove past Mama’s, but didn’t look at the building. She’d cried too much this morning. Now she had to toughen up.

  As she got closer to her apartment, she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Tim wasn’t going to be there, she told herself. The apartment and all her belongings were destroyed. He knew she couldn’t live there.

  But as she pulled to the curb and looked around, her heart battered against her chest. She drew in a deep breath. Everything seemed normal.

  Darcy removed the clothes and toiletries from her purse and set them on the backseat. Then she got out of the car, slung the bag over her shoulder and plunged her hand inside. Curled it around her gun.

  Tim wasn’t around, but if she was wrong, she’d be ready.

  As she edged up the back stairs, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder every few moments. Nothing moved in the alley. Birds chirped in the oak tree next door.

  Normal.

  A the top of the stairs, she saw something white fluttering on her door. When she was close enough to make out what it was, her stomach lurched and she began to back away.

  It was a copy of her wedding picture. She and Tim, standing arm in arm, smiling. Happy.

  The picture had been torn in half, right down the middle, then taped back together.

  One of the knives from her kitchen pinned it to the door.

  She needed Patrick.

  No. She couldn’t call him.

  Tim had been watching her. He’d seen her come home with Patrick every evening, and jealousy would fuel his rage. When they were married, he’d constantly accused her of cheating on him.

  Finally he had a focus for his fury.

  Had he found Nathan’s house? Was he also stalking Patrick?

  The police knew about him now. They’d be watching for him. She didn’t have to tell them about this.

  The edges of the picture fluttered in the breeze, but she avoided looking at it as she inserted the key and opened the door. A sour, rancid smell wafted out.

  Swallowing hard, she locked the door behind her and picked her way through the slimy mess in the kitchen. When she reached the bedroom, she scooted beneath the bed and ran her hands along the quarter-round until she found the loose piece.

  Removing it carefully, she pulled out several packets of money, each in a sealed envelope. When all five were on her chest, she reached in one more time to double check. She should have taken it yesterday, but she hadn’t wanted Patrick to think about her running away.

  She replaced the quarter-round, edged out from under the bed and stood up. When she heard a noise outside the apartment, she froze then reached for her gun.

  It was two mothers with strollers, walking past the front of the house.

  She slid the envelopes into her bag an
d placed the gun on top. Within reach.

  Once she had a new address, she’d get the rest of her money from the bank account she’d set up in another name.

  She looked around at the wreckage of the apartment where she’d spent almost three years. This hadn’t been a home. It had been a place to sleep. A place to hide.

  That was all.

  Seeing it for the last time didn’t make her sad.

  The people she was leaving behind, though...that was another story.

  She’d miss her landlord, Henry. She’d miss everyone at Mama’s—the waitresses, the busboys, the cooks. The bartenders. Nathan and Marco.

  Patrick.

  Her throat swelled and she choked back the tears. She wanted to stay with him. Love him. Build a life with him. But Tim was out there. Watching and waiting. And sooner or later, he’d come for Patrick.

  * * *

  PATRICK TUGGED ON the tape that held the small transmitter to his chest as he paced the living room. “Where the hell are they?” he muttered. “They were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”

  Nathan turned from his station at the front window. “A navy blue Taurus just pulled up. I’m betting that’s them.”

  “Thank God.”

  He opened the door before the two agents could ring the bell. “Come in, for God’s sake.” As soon as they were inside, he grabbed his laptop and shoved it at them. “The software is loaded and ready to go. The mic works. Local cop set it up. Where do you want to wait?”

  “Upstairs,” the woman said. “You got the money?”

  “Certified check.” He patted his shirt pocket. He’d taken the check from Cal, thanked him and sent him back to FreeZone to keep an eye on Darcy.

  “We want as much information as you can get out of him before we arrest the guy,” she said. “He’s part of an ongoing investigation. We need to know who he’s working for.”

  “You told me that already. More than once. I got it, okay?”

  The man held up his hands. “Fine. Good. We’ll go upstairs.”

  Patrick gave them a few minutes before testing the wire.

  “You hear me okay?”

  “Loud and clear,” came the answer through his earpiece. “We’re set here.”