by Carsen Taite
“Depends. Do you still want to talk?”
“Yes.”
“Two conditions.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “I’m waiting.”
“You come over here. You come alone and you talk, I listen.”
“That sounded like more than two conditions.”
Ellery sighed. “Are you coming over or not?”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah parked her car in front of Ellery’s house and started to walk to the front door, but she was stopped by the sound of a sharp whistle. She looked around, finally spying an old man peering at her from the house next door. He was drinking a beer and rocking back and forth in a chair on his porch. She nodded and waved.
“Nice car, girlie.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a fed, aren’t you?”
She cocked her head. Nothing about her right now should signal federal agent. She was dressed for Sunday brunch, not a day at the office and her badge was in her purse, not strapped to her side. She smiled and said, “It’s Sunday. I’m not anything on Sundays.”
He threw his head back and laughed, a gravely rumble of a laugh, part humor and part edge. “Right. Whatever you say.” His laugh stopped abruptly and the smile disappeared from his face. “Tell you what, though.” He waggled a finger, motioning her over. She took a few steps until she could hear the sound of his harsh whisper. “I don’t care who you are. You hurt that girl, you’ll answer to me. You understand?”
Sarah held back a sharp retort. Everything about this old man’s posturing was born of genuine concern for Ellery, and she couldn’t help but admire his nerve and loyalty. This wasn’t just a neighbor; he was a good friend. On instinct, she stuck out a hand and clasped his firmly in her own. “I understand.”
When she turned around, Ellery was standing on the front steps of her house, grinning. Sarah walked over to meet her. “Just getting to know the neighbors.”
“He threatened you, didn’t he?” Ellery asked.
She shrugged. “A little bit.”
“Leo’s a former Marine. He’s our entire neighborhood watch and he fancies himself my personal bodyguard.”
“Have you needed a bodyguard before?”
“Matter of fact, I have.”
Sarah stared for a moment, but Ellery didn’t volunteer more. She got the distinct impression the subject was off limits, which was fine since she’d come here for a very specific reason. Ellery had called to say she was willing to hear whatever Sarah could tell her about why she’d been caught up in this mess, and Sarah was prepared to tell her everything she knew. Probably not what Trip had in mind when he tapped her for this job, but at this point she cared more about getting to the truth than dancing around it. Ellery struck her as the kind of person who would know right away if she was being disingenuous, and she was willing to risk divulging some key facts in order to get some in return.
She followed Ellery in, observing every detail of the tidy, but comfortable space where Ellery lived. From the original art on the walls to the photos arranged on the mantel, Ellery’s house had all the trappings to signal a real person lived here, unlike her own sterile apartment. She stopped in front of a beautiful wood cabinet with leaded glass doors. The shelves were lined with an odd mix of objects: a Cleveland Indians ball cap, a set of trading cards, a hardhat from a local business, and a male action figure with hooks instead of hands.
“That piece was once a barn door,” Ellery said. “The glass is from a church out in Cleburne. They replaced all the windows with energy efficient ugly ones and I lucked out by picking up a bunch of their castoffs.”
Sarah ran her fingers along the side of the cabinet. “It’s beautiful. Pine?”
“Yes.”
“I’m curious about the contents.”
Ellery opened the cabinet doors and touched each object as she explained the significance. “No, I’m not a Cleveland fan, but I did go to a game when I was there trying a federal bribery case. We won the case, so the hat has good mojo.” She pointed at the hard hat and trading cards. “Two other companies we represented that avoided prosecution.”
Sarah pointed at the action figure. “This is the one that really has me stumped.”
“One of our clients didn’t think the investigator we hired was aggressive enough so he hired this guy.” Ellery picked up the action figure. “His name is Jay J. Armes, and according to his autobiography, he’s ‘the World’s most successful private investigator.’ He rescued Marlon Brando’s son from kidnappers, he owns pet tigers, and he has tons of attachments he uses in place of the hands he lost when he was a kid playing with explosives. An associate at the office found this vintage action figure on eBay and I had to have it for my collection.”
“Wow. Pretty sure you can’t top that as far as souvenirs go. Is that why you quit?”
“You want something to drink? Beer? Wine?”
Sarah didn’t miss a beat. “Whatever you’re having is good.” She followed her into the kitchen and pretended to look at a cookbook sitting on the table while Ellery reached into the refrigerator and fished out a couple of beer bottles. She hadn’t really expected Ellery to answer her question when she’d already ducked it once before, and she wasn’t quite sure why she was fixated on the reason Ellery had left a lucrative law practice to make furniture for a living. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the lure of a simpler life, but Ellery had seemed so enthusiastic about describing the souvenirs of her former life and Sarah thought she’d detected a trace of wistfulness.
Ellery watched Sarah with a careful eye. She was standing in the kitchen, pretending like she wasn’t watching her every move, but Ellery knew better. She doubted there was a single thing this woman missed and, as much as it aggravated her, she had a grudging admiration for her too. She grabbed two bottles of beer, twisted off the tops, and handed one to Sarah. A tiny test really, since she figured she would want a glass. Would she ask?
Sarah took the bottle and read the label. “Local. Nice. I haven’t had as much time as I would like to try out some of the local breweries. Would you mind if I had a glass?”
Ellery smiled, happy with the honesty. She reached into the freezer and pulled out a well-chilled pint glass and handed it to Sarah who handled the pour like a pro. “I didn’t figure you for a beer drinker.”
“Why? Because I had a mixed drink the first time we met?”
“That wasn’t the first time we met.” She grinned. “Unless you were drinking at Danny Soto’s office.”
“I might start drinking if I had to work for the county. But as for your assumptions, I like to drink a lot of different things. I picked a clear drink that night because the odds of someone bumping into me and spilling it were pretty high.”
Ellery motioned to the table and they sat next to each other. “It was pretty crowded. I guess we’re lucky someone didn’t target the hotel for the bombing.” She was instantly sorry for her careless words and she quickly pivoted. “Although I guess you probably think that the reason they didn’t choose the hotel is obvious, since I was there and I’m involved.”
“I didn’t say that. I didn’t even think that.”
“Then why are you here?”
Sarah looked taken aback by the question, but she recovered quickly. “Here’s the truth. I don’t think you had anything to do with the bombing, but I do think that maybe one of your clients did. You probably had no idea what they were really up to, but you might be able to help us get the truth.”
“If you’ve been doing this for any length of time, you know that I can’t talk to you or anyone else about things my client has told me without his express permission.”
“I get it, but there are ways around it. The fraud exception for example. If you—”
Ellery waved a hand to stop her. The fraud exception to the attorney client privilege could be used to allow her to divulge otherwise confidential information if her client’s action had implicated
her in a crime and she needed to defend herself, but as far as she was concerned, they weren’t there yet. “You’re assuming there was some wrongdoing and that I know anything about it.”
“Well, here’s the deal. There are documents filed with the IRS that have your name on them. Those documents make you a party to whatever Amir Khan’s charity was up to, no matter what your intentions.”
Ellery had a choice. If she told Sarah her name had been added to those documents without her permission, she’d be implicating her client of forgery. Former client. Hell, it didn’t matter if Amir was a current or former client, the privilege survived the relationship. It was important to her that Sarah not believe she was responsible for something she hadn’t done, but her hands were tied until she knew more. She stalled. “You still haven’t told me what the charity was up to that has HSI crawling all over themselves. I thought that was the purpose of this little talk.”
“You’re right.” Sarah looked around the kitchen. “Do you have something I can write on? I think it would help to have a visual.”
Ellery pulled a pad of paper out of a drawer and shoved it and a pen across the table. Sarah drew a triangle and began labeling the three points. She tapped her finger on the one labeled WHI. “Welcome Home International is Khan’s claim to fame. It started out as a legitimate nonprofit, established to provide assistance to refugee immigrants from the Middle East.”
“That much I already knew.”
“Okay, but there’s another organization.” She pointed to the label, GEA. “Global Enterprises Alliance. It’s another nonprofit, not as well known as WHI, and you’ll be happy to know your name isn’t anywhere on their filing documents. Their board president is a guy named Sadeem Jafari.”
Ellery nodded, schooling her expression into what she hoped was nonchalance. She recognized Sadeem’s name from the search warrant affidavit, which of course, Sarah didn’t have a clue she had, but she also recognized it and GEA from the documents on Meg’s computer that she now had on a flash drive in her study. She felt a tinge of guilt at not telling Sarah what she knew about GEA, albeit limited, but then she reminded herself this meeting was about getting, not giving information. Instead, she asked, “What’s the connection?”
“The most obvious one is money. Seventy percent of WHI’s funds are deposited into bank accounts held jointly with GEA, and all of that money is held offshore.”
“You know it’s not illegal to have an offshore account. If it was, most US corporations would be in a world of hurt.”
“It may not be illegal to store funds offshore, but it’s where the funds went after they got there that’s the problem.” Sarah put her finger on the last point of the triangle that simply said “Terrorism.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a group actually called that.”
“Very funny. It’s shorthand for the several groups that the WHI and GEA money is funneled to, all of which aid terrorist training camps in Libya and Pakistan under the guise of charitable pursuits in the Middle East.”
“This sounds a lot like the Holy Land case.” Ellery referred to a recent high profile case where supporters of a Dallas charity, the Holy Land Foundation, had been accused of sending money to Hamas sympathizers who’d been included on a terrorist watch list.
“Because it is a lot like the Holy Land case. The Holy Land defendants are doing serious time. Do you really want to go down with your former client?”
Ellery shook her head. It wasn’t that easy, but she didn’t expect Sarah to understand. The Amir Khan she knew appeared to be a patriotic American. He’d moved here years ago, and he spent considerable time and resources making his part of it a better place for both his family and the rest of his community. But there was no denying her name had made it onto that IRS filing somehow. If Amir didn’t have anything to hide, then why use her name? Who was he covering for and why?
“I don’t think it’s as simple as you’re making it sound,” Ellery said. “Before I agree to anything, I’d want to see proof that the money from WHI is being used for terrorist activity and that Amir knew about it.”
“You know I can’t tell you specifics. Some of it’s classified.”
“But you know for sure that some of this terrorist activity can be tied to the bombing?”
“There are connections. That’s all I can tell you right now.”
Ellery sensed Sarah was equivocating. Chances were the investigation into Amir’s charity was part of a scorched earth campaign to rout out suspected terrorists whether they had anything to do with the bombing or not. She tried again. “I know that if we go to trial, the AUSA will have to turn over what they know.”
“You really want to take it that far? I’m giving you an out. Tell me everything you know and help us prosecute these guys.” Sarah leaned in and placed a hand on her arm. “Come on, Ellery, you were there. You saw what they did.”
Ellery flinched at the raw edge of emotion in Sarah’s voice. The sights and sounds of the bombing’s aftermath flooded into her consciousness and the memory of what she’d seen that night made Sarah’s request seem not only reasonable, but the right thing to do.
But she wasn’t just a witness to a horrible tragedy. She was a lawyer who’d taken an oath, part of which was maintaining her client’s trust. Until she knew for sure that Amir himself had done something to violate that trust, she wasn’t going to say a word. “I’ll make you a deal. Get me whatever information you can about a direct connection between Amir Khan and any terrorist activity and give me the week to think it over.”
Sarah took a drink from her beer and set the glass on the table. She folded her hands and stared at Ellery as if she was trying to read her mind. Seconds ticked by with neither one of them saying a word as Ellery did her best to mask her thoughts. Finally, Sarah spoke. “I’ll give you until Tuesday. I can’t hold them off any longer.”
She didn’t need to say who “them” was. Didn’t really matter. Ellery knew no one had a real case against her, but fighting Homeland Security was a David versus Goliath endeavor. “And the information?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Fair enough,” Ellery said, but she didn’t mean it. Nothing about this was fair, not the least of which was the fact that she wished she were meeting with Sarah under vastly different circumstances. She flashed on the memory of watching Sarah through the window at Breadwinners. She assumed she was there enjoying the day with brunch and a pretty woman. She’d wanted to be that other woman. Weekend brunches, dinners out, even the simple act of drinking beer here at home without the pressure of giving up her former client to law enforcement—those were the things that she wished she were doing with Sarah instead of sitting here negotiating the terms of a surrender.
She looked up from her beer to see Sarah staring again, but this time her eyes signaled compassion. She locked onto her gaze as if she could morph this whole ordeal into a completely different situation. Like the night of the bombing, at the reception, when Sarah had flirted with her, but she’d been stuck with April. Or the night of the show, when Sarah had appeared in that mind-blowing red dress, but the only date they could make was to discuss the case. What she wouldn’t give to have both those chances repeated so she could get to know Sarah under different, better circumstances. The heat of her desire suddenly felt suffocating and she pushed back from the table and stood up. “Do you want another drink?”
Sarah stood up too without ever breaking her gaze. “Are you okay?”
She took a step toward her and Ellery backed up into the counter. “No. I mean, I don’t know.”
“This is a lot, I know.” Sarah’s voice was tender, soft. “You’ve probably helped dozens of people navigate these waters, but I imagine it’s different when it’s you.”
Ellery felt the touch before she saw it. Sarah’s hand on her arm again. Gentle, yet strong. Reassuring, but something else too. She should pull away now, before she drowned in the possibility of the something else. But she was frozen in place. Sh
e opened her mouth to speak, but slowly shut it before she could spoil the moment with words. Sarah’s eyes, dark and dangerous, pulled her in like a tractor beam, and she didn’t even try and resist as her body leaned forward and she gave in to the urgent need to kiss her.
Sarah’s lips were silky soft, the hint of the malt from the beer only adding to their deliciousness. She responded to the kiss with a soft groan, and Ellery circled an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, while Sarah reached up and curled her hand around the back of Ellery’s head. Her eyes were black with desire and Ellery deepened the kiss, heady with want.
The next few seconds or minutes or however long was lost to raw feeling. Pushing hard, landing soft, tasting amazing. Ellery lost her breath, her head, her way and, in those moments, she’d never felt as close to someone as she did when she surrendered to their kiss.
And then it was over and it was Sarah who broke the embrace. One second their eyes were locked and the next Sarah’s head ducked and she pulled back. Gently, but her tenderness only made the separation more stark. “I’m sorry.”
Ellery started to respond in kind, but she wasn’t sorry. It may have only been a fleeting moment, but it had been incredible and she wasn’t sorry. Not now anyway. Tomorrow, or the next day when Special Agent Sarah Flores was trying to get her to rat out a former client, she might be sorry, but right now she regretted nothing. “I’m not. Do you want to talk about it?”
Sarah smiled. “You sound like a shrink.”
Ellery smiled back. The moment might be gone, but if she tried hard, she could keep from dirtying it up with reality. “Takes one to know one.”
“True. I’ve spent my life analyzing other people’s behavior, but for the life of me, I have no idea what got into me just now.”
Ellery nodded, but Sarah’s comment pierced her gut. You’re being silly. Just because you felt something intimate, doesn’t mean she did. And it’s pretty clear she didn’t. It was a kiss. A searing, toe-curling kiss, but she knew better than to mistake physical arousal for something more. She couldn’t help but feel Sarah wasn’t being completely honest, but she didn’t want to hear more about her regrets. “Don’t worry about it.” She meant the words as much for herself as Sarah.
