Convenient Lies

by Robin Patchen

  She stared at Johnny, seemed to be itching to pick him up. Considering it had taken Brady an hour to get him to sleep, he didn’t think that was such a great idea.

  “You hungry?”

  She smiled. “We don’t have much.”

  “Hardly anything. You didn’t think you’d be here this long, huh?”

  She shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes.

  He nodded toward the sofa. “There’s still a lot to talk about.”

  She stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. She settled onto the sofa on the far side of the room.

  Seemed she’d reconstructed her guard during that nap.

  Brady lifted a notebook and pen he’d left on the coffee table earlier, trying to make sense of the stories Rae’d told him. “Tell me about the other people Julien has working for him.”

  She popped the can open, sipped her drink, and set it on the coffee table. “Well, of course there are all the people at the factories and office buildings. And the people who work at the house in Tunis, and there’s a housekeeper in Paris.”

  “I mean people who work with him on his illegal business.”

  “He has a couple of bodyguards, besides Hector. And the two guards he had protecting me. And his personal assistant.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Her. Farah Hanachi. She keeps his calendar, runs errands for him.”

  “Does she know about his illegal activities?”

  “I don’t know. She’s just this sweet lady. She’s older than we are—late forties, early fifties. She’s a widow and went to work for Julien’s company—well, I guess it was his father’s company back then. Even then it was a front for illegal activities. Anyway, Farah was in her twenties when her husband died, and she had to get a job.”

  “You seem to know a lot about her.”

  Rae gave him a sad smile. “We were friends. When Julien and I started seeing each other, I had a lot of contact with her. And we hit it off. So when she wasn’t working for him, she was hanging out with me. I told you about the parties Julien always had? Farah was there often, and the two of us would talk.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter, but he knew her better than that. “She helped Julien pick out my wedding gown and ring.”

  “So you don’t think she could be involved?”

  “I don’t know. At first, I thought not. But how could she have worked so closely with him and not known?” She sighed. “I’m not certain of anything.”

  He tapped his pen against his leg. “Doesn’t help us much.”

  “But Farah’s my friend. I can’t imagine that she’d be working against me.”

  “She was his assistant first, though. And he’s her boss.”

  “True.”

  “Okay. Anybody else I need to worry about?”

  “His father.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Not much. I’ve never met him. Never had reason to investigate him until I found out the truth, and before we went to Paris, Julien took my laptop and smartphone away. So I couldn’t get more information about him. Before that, even when I was looking into the arms dealer involved in the Cairo bombing, nothing pointed to him.”

  “About that. You said your article led to that guy’s arrest and conviction, but then you said Julien actually did it.”

  “Yeah. Julien pointed me to the Spaniard. In retrospect, I think Hector must’ve planted the documents I found. The Spaniard wasn’t convicted of the bombing in Cairo. Most of the evidence I uncovered was related to other deals, not that one. I haven’t put all those pieces together, and they don’t matter now. The guy was an arms dealer, he just wasn’t responsible for that particular deal. I don’t know how Julien pinned it on the Spaniard, but it worked out for him. The Spaniard was his biggest competitor.”

  Brady sat back against the sofa and scrubbed his face in his hands. Her husband was diabolical, using his girlfriend to take out his enemy.

  Wait, was Brady really talking about arms dealers in Northern Africa with his high-school sweetheart? The conversation was surreal. The whole situation was more than he could wrap his mind around. How could a little New Hampshire girl have gotten sucked into all this intrigue and international crime? Right, this was Reagan McAdams they were talking about, discoverer of secrets and exposer of lies.

  He blew out a long breath. “So what was your plan, Rae? Come here, get your gold, and then disappear again?”

  She swallowed and stared at the floor. “I was hoping to talk Gram into joining me. I figured I could keep us hidden, and I couldn’t bear to be away from her any longer.” When Rae looked up, tears spilled from her eyes. She wiped them with her fingers. “I was so sure I knew where the gold was. I figured I’d get into town, get the gold, grab Gram and her stuff, and take off again.”

  “To where?”

  “South America. Maybe Brazil. I speak a little Portuguese. We can blend in there. I can pass Johnny off as a local, at least half-Brazilian. And I can play the grieving widow.”

  “Why Brazil?”

  She shrugged and nearly smiled. “Worked for the Nazis.”

  His chuckle felt good after all the drama of the previous few days. “So did you just spin a globe and decide to move to the spot your finger landed on?”

  “I didn’t want to put too much thought into it. I figured if I chose a place based on logic, then Julien could figure out my logic and follow me. So I thought, Brazil. Why not?”

  “Interesting.”

  “There are some remote villages there. As long as I have access to the Internet, I can access my money.” She sighed. “Well, I could access my money, if I had any.”

  “And what do you know about living in the jungle?”

  “About as much as I knew about living in the African desert surrounded by Muslims. I’m adaptable.”

  His gaze found the baby, and she smiled. “And he won’t know anything else. I’ll teach him English, homeschool him, and maybe when he’s ready for college, we’ll come back. Surely Julien will have quit looking for us by then.”

  “So eighteen years. That’s your plan? To live in the jungle for eighteen years?”

  She nodded, and he stood and paced.

  “You’re insane, you know that?”

  He cringed. Bad choice of words, and he expected her to rise to the challenge, but she sank deeper into the soft sofa.

  “I don’t know what else to do. I thought if Julien believed I’d expose him, he’d leave us alone, but after the bombing yesterday...”

  Brady froze. “Expose him? What do you mean?”

  “I left him a note telling him that if he followed me, I’d send all this evidence to the authorities. I thought he’d leave me alone rather than risk it. But he called my bluff.”

  Brady stared at her while the words sank in. “You took evidence? You could expose him?”

  Her already light skin paled further. “I can’t, Brady. No way I’m taking that chance.”

  Forty-Three

  Rae shouldn’t have mentioned the evidence, not if she didn’t plan to use it. Blame that little slip-up on her exhaustion.

  Brady stood beside the sofa and stared at her, hands clenched by his sides.

  She sipped her soda again and set it on the coffee table. Keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake the baby, she said, “I can’t turn the files over.”

  “Why not?”

  She lifted her eyebrows at his raised voice.

  “Sorry.” His voice was a near-whisper now, and somehow more vehement. “If you didn’t intend to give it to the authorities, why take it?”

  “Like I said, to get him to leave us alone.”

  “And you thought that would work?”

  She ignored the incredulity in his voice. “Julien would definitely have come after us otherwise. It seemed like our only chance.”

  “So why not turn it over?”

  “It’s not enough to put him away. It might get an investigation started, but—�
��

  “Then why not gather more? That’s your specialty, right? I mean, you had time—”

  “I couldn’t.” She sighed, too tired to explain. “I just told you, Julien took my computer and—”

  “Why would you let him do that?”

  “I was really sick, Brady. I’d been ordered to bedrest. Julien said he wanted me to relax, and how could I argue that having an Internet connection was more important than the health of our child?”

  He sat beside her. “It was that bad?”

  “They talked about taking the baby early to protect my health, but I promised to be good, to do what they told me.” She swallowed and looked away. “And honestly, I was afraid Julien knew I’d gone through his files. I spent weeks worried that right after the baby was born, he might just kill me. But he was so kind, so...” She caught a glimpse of Brady’s hard expression. “Anyway, I don’t think he knew.”

  “But you don’t have enough information, and now Julien has even more incentive to find you, fast.”

  She massaged her temples with her fingertips before meeting his eyes again. “He already had all the incentive he needed. I took his son.”

  Brady quieted, sighed. “How did you find out about his first wife.”

  “His only wife.” She thought back, remembered the moment she’d realized what all those papers meant, remembered the sting of betrayal. “We were in Paris. He has an office there too. I’d already made copies of everything in Tunis. The Paris office was just more of the same. Except the file about Martine.” At the memory, her eyes stung. “I found his marriage license. I searched for divorce papers, but there were none. There were a few letters between them that convinced me they were still married. No mention of children. Seemed an amiable relationship. There were photographs of her and their home in France. A vineyard.”

  Brady’s phone vibrated, and he slipped it from his pocket and tapped on the screen.

  “Everything okay?” Rae asked.

  “Just a text.” He read another one as it came in, glanced at Rae, then put his phone away.

  “Do you have to go?”

  Brady shook his head. “So as far as you know, Johnny’s his only child.”

  “I’m sure of it. Johnny is his only heir. He mentioned so many times what it meant to him to finally have a son to pass everything down to.”

  “So he had the kid to take over his business someday.”

  “He loves Johnny. Julien didn’t do any women’s work, as he’d have called it. But he played with Johnny, held him whenever he could. The look in his eyes when he held his son...”

  Rae was so stupid to feel as if she were betraying Julien after everything he’d done. Yet being here with Brady, talking about Julien, it all felt so wrong. How had her life spiraled so quickly out of control? Three months before, she’d been a giddy woman in love with her husband and expecting her first child. She’d been part of a family, a group of friends. She’d had a career and a future.

  How many more times would life as she knew it crumble to dust? Her father’s death. Her mother’s insanity, imprisonment, and suicide. Now Gram was gone too. Rae had thought she’d lived through the worst of her life’s tragedies. Apparently not. Would she ever finish paying for her mistakes, or would her entire life be one big payback for the stupidity she’d exhibited at eleven years old?

  “So you believe Johnny’s not in physical danger,” Brady said.

  She forced her thoughts back to the moment. “Julien won’t hurt him.”

  “But you fear he’ll kill you.”

  She stood, too antsy to keep her chair. “I have no idea. I thought he loved me, too, so what do I know?” She checked the clock on the oven in the kitchen. Nearly five. She wanted something to eat, but not that soup they’d brought from her house. Maybe she could talk Brady into making eggs again.

  And maybe she just wanted out of this conversation.

  “Rae, what happens if you don’t find your father’s gold?”

  She stared out the back window at the twilight beyond. “I have no idea.”

  Brady was just about to respond when Johnny cried.

  Rae picked him up. Even through his pajamas, she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Would you get his medicine?”

  Brady’d already headed for the kitchen. He returned with a medicine dropper a moment later. “Tip his head back.”

  Once Johnny had been medicated, Brady fixed his bottle while Rae tried to comfort him. With the fever back, his little whimpers were sadder than usual. Her heart nearly broke as she rocked him and cooed until Brady returned with the bottle. Johnny took less than half before he nodded off again.

  Rae tried to wake him, but he wasn’t having it. She looked at Brady. “Why won’t he eat?”

  “Do you eat when you’re sick?”

  Made sense, but it still scared her. Funny how she and Brady had traded roles again. Now she was the worrywart and he the sensible one. They’d always made a good team.

  She changed Johnny’s diaper, hoping the activity would wake him up, but he slept through it. Defeated, she returned him to the middle of the king-sized bed. Maybe when the medicine kicked in, he’d want to eat again.

  Brady seemed antsy when she returned, his feet bouncing like it was all he could do to stay seated. “Would you at least consider taking your evidence to the FBI?”

  The very thought of it set her heart beating faster. She carried the half-empty bottle into the kitchen and rinsed it out. When she was finished, she sat on the sofa and braced herself for the fight that was surely coming. “I don’t think they can protect me.”

  “They could put you in witness protection.”

  “No one can protect us, not from Julien. He has too many friends in government—in Tunisia, in Europe, and in America. I have a list of their names, people in law enforcement, one guy in the justice department. No way I’m going to trust them to take care of my son and me. With my luck, they’d throw me in prison for kidnapping.”

  Brady stood and paced. Finally he faced her, eyes blazing, jaw set. “So you’re just going to run away again? Like you did after that stupid party? Like you did after college, running away to Europe instead of coming home to your grandmother? Why don’t you try facing a problem head-on for a change?”

  She bolted to her feet. “For a change? Do you remember what happened the last time I faced a problem head-on? My mother’s dead, Brady.”

  His features softened. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “Of course it was my fault.”

  “She kidnapped a baby. You did the right thing.”

  “Sending Mom to prison was the right thing?” Old, familiar tears trickled down her cheeks. “I should’ve taken the baby to your house, left him on your doorstep. Your mother would’ve called the police, and nobody would ever have known...”

  “Your mother’s insanity wasn’t your fault.”

  Rae looked out the back window. Dusk had settled, and the trees between the cabin and the water were murky silhouettes against the graying sky. No matter how bright the day had been, darkness always lurked over the horizon. “Mom was fine until she had me. It all started with postpartum.”

  “Your mother was bipolar. That’s not caused by pregnancy.”

  “What do you know?”

  Brady closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Angry as she was, she couldn’t force herself to pull away. He kissed the top of her head. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. Your grandmother never forgave herself for going away that weekend. She felt if she’d been here, none of it would have happened.”

  Rae sniffed. “It wasn’t Gram’s fault.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, either.”

  “She’s dead, Brady. Dead because she couldn’t handle life in prison. Dead because she made a knife out of a piece of plastic she’d found who knows where and slit her wrist.”

  “Rae.”

  She pulled away and crossed her arms. “The authorities nev
er should have put her in prison. The DA should have argued for a mental hospital. The judge should have insisted. But she’d kidnapped a congressman’s kid, so who cared about her? Who cared if they did the wrong thing, as long as they looked good doing it? Sticking a crazy woman in the general population, that was their mistake. My mistake was trusting them. I won’t do it again.”

  Forty-Four

  A soft knock issued from the front door. Rae whipped her head toward it, backed up a step. “Who is that?”

  Brady took out his gun and pointed it at the floor. “I think I know.” He nodded toward the gun. “Just to be safe.” He inched his way forward and looked out the living room window, then turned to her. “Don’t be mad.”

  She crossed her arms. “Don’t do anything to tick me off.”

  His lips twitched. “That’s a long list. Not sure I can promise.”

  He swung the door open, and Samantha stood on the doorstep. She looked from Rae to Brady. “Didn’t you tell her I was coming?”

  “Rae loves surprises.”

  Rae swiveled to face Brady. “Are you insane? What is she doing here?”

  Samantha lifted a laptop in one hand, a sack in the other. “I brought information and dinner.”

  Brady bumped Rae’s shoulder. “Dinner, Rae. I could hear your stomach growling from the other room.”

  “That’s not the point.” She turned to Sam. “I’m glad to see you, but it’s not safe for you to be around me. The last thing I want is people knowing we’ve been together.”

  Sam smiled and stepped inside. She was dressed in slacks and a pretty gray sweater. A teal scarf completed the look, and Rae was again struck by how much Samantha had changed over the years. “It’s dark. Nobody saw me. And I do own this cabin.”

  “Right. All the more reason for you to keep your distance—”

  “I’m here now,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And I parked the Trooper in front of the cabin two doors down. If anybody from town happens by and notices it, they’ll assume I’m cleaning for a renter. I’m out here all the time.”