Rae’s voice trailed off, and she stared at the window behind Brady. He resisted the urge to yell. A moment later, she met his eyes.
“I know he’s a bad guy. A murderer. I know that. But can’t you see that he probably never had any other options? He is who his father created him to be. Did he ever have the choice to walk away from his father’s business?” She looked at Samantha. “Can’t you see that, deep inside, maybe he doesn’t feel free at all? Maybe he never has.”
Samantha nodded as if she understood.
Brady didn’t understand one bit. Nobody’d forced Moreau to become an arms dealer. The man could’ve walked away from his father, from the business, and faced the consequences. Didn’t matter who asked him to, Brady would never do the things Julien had done. No self-respecting man would.
Julien was a bigamist, a murderer, and worse. All Rae could think about was how unfortunate the guy had been.
What was he supposed to say? Sure, your not-quite-husband seems like a real winner. Let’s invite him for dinner and talk about that random bombing at Columbia that he couldn’t possibly have instigated because of his great love for the red, white, and blue.
Couldn’t say that. Couldn’t walk away, either.
He looked at the television set. “So how do you explain that?”
Forty-Six
In the other room, Johnny wailed. Rae left her friends and picked Johnny up. She pressed her fingertips to his forehead and felt the heat. Not too bad, thank heavens, because it wasn’t time for more medicine. She returned to the living room.
“Think he’ll eat?” Brady asked.
“Can’t hurt to try. Sam, would you hold him for me?”
Sam took the baby while Rae refused to acknowledge the hurt in Brady’s eyes.
She went to the kitchen to fix a bottle.
She didn’t believe Julien had instigated that bombing, but she also wasn’t stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with her. By now, Julien would know that much of what she’d told him about her past was a lie. Samantha confirmed that he’d flown to San Diego, so he’d probably been to the real Rachel Adams’s home. Surely he’d discovered that she looked very little like her. Had he found her? Her family? Had he frightened them or hurt them? She doubted it. Julien was smart enough to realize the real Adamses knew nothing about her. And the actual Rachel Adams had never known Rae’s real name.
Unfortunately, Julien knew that Reagan had graduated from Columbia. That part of her story was true, and now that he was in New York, he could confirm it very quickly. That’s where her path collided with Rachel Adams’s past. So that’s where he would go.
Rae glanced at the TV, at the footage running on a loop, and remembered that cafe. It was a popular hangout for students. If it had been an academic building or a bus stop or something else, she might have been able to convince herself it was just a coincidence, but a cafe, like the one where they’d met, the one where a bomb had exploded in Tunis.
Too many coincidences.
What did it mean? If Julien hadn’t set off that bomb, who had?
She took Johnny from Sam’s arms and worked the bottle into his mouth. He sucked hungrily.
Rae resumed pacing while she fed him, feeling Brady’s and Samantha’s stares.
Hector. He wouldn’t have any trouble killing innocent people. But he also wouldn’t act outside of Julien’s orders. He was like a trained dog. He needed a master.
She peered down at Johnny. He’d fallen asleep with the nipple in his mouth. She set the bottle on the coffee table and cradled her child closer.
If Hector were responsible for that bombing, and Julien didn’t tell him to do it, then who did? She froze when it came to her. The answer sent a shudder down her spine.
Julien’s father was behind this, and in that case, Rae was in more danger than she’d believed.
Brady touched her arm. “What are you thinking?”
She stepped away. He needed to stop touching her, or her resolve would melt. “His father’s involved.” She nodded to the TV. “If Julien didn’t do that, then Alejandro did.”
“Does that make a difference?”
Johnny stirred. She shifted him over her shoulder, felt his warmth on her neck. “Julien might’ve had mercy on me. He’s a killer, but he cared for me. That wasn’t a lie. And he loves his son. I had a chance with Julien. Johnny would be safe with him. But Alejandro? He’s a cold-hearted killer. He has no affection for me, no connection to me. He wouldn’t show me any mercy.”
“You never thought Julien would show you mercy,” Brady said.
“I never said it, but I hoped. Not that I want to go back with him. But if I could’ve been with Johnny—”
“You’d have gone back?” Brady swallowed hard and glared. “You’d have been the wife...no, the mistress of a murderer?”
“I’d have been with my son. But if Alejandro’s involved...”
Samantha said, “He’ll kill you.”
“Yes.” Rae looked back at the screen. “People are dead because of me.”
Sam stroked her back. “You’re trying to save—”
“And how many more will die?” She didn’t expect an answer and wasn’t surprised when neither said a word. “I can’t do it.”
Brady started to reach for her, then dropped his hand.
The tiny move nearly made her weep. Or maybe it was the truth she was being forced to face. “It’s wrong, Brady. You’re right. I can’t run away from this. I have to deal with it.”
He stood straighter, his eyes brightening. “We can fight him. You can take the evidence to the FBI and...” He trailed off when she shook her head. He stepped back. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the FBI is the answer. Just let me think.”
Rae turned to Samantha. “You should go. If Julien is on my trail, I don’t want you here when he shows up.”
Brady said, “How is he going to find you here? Nobody knows where you are.”
Samantha stood. “I’d like to stay.”
“I need you to go.” Rae turned to Brady. “You, too.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m not leaving.”
“I need to be alone, to think.”
“Think all you want. I won’t get in your way.”
Rae turned back to Samantha and smiled. “I’m glad you came over tonight.” She stepped forward and gave her friend an awkward hug, the baby between them. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye, not if I can help it.”
“Okay.”
Rae squeezed her hand. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned to Brady. “Just until morning, okay?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You said it before, Brady. If he knew where I was, why would he bomb a building in New York?”
“Still—”
“We’ll be okay until morning. I promise.”
Forty-Seven
Brady stormed outside. Rae wanted him to leave? Fine.
He yanked open the door of his pickup and climbed into the cold cab. He started it up, turned on the heat, then frowned at the cabin.
What was she up to? He’d seen that look before. Determination. Resolve. But to do what? To take off without telling him goodbye? To leave him again, forever this time?
Or was she planning something else?
Whatever it was, she didn’t want him around to witness it. Seemed she wanted Brady gone enough to risk what might happen if Julien showed up.
Maybe that’s what she wanted, though. Maybe Brady had misread the entire situation, and deep down, Rae was simply looking for an excuse to stay with the monster. She’d all but admitted she’d go back to him, if that’s what it took to protect Johnny.
The truth hit him like a mortar blast.
Rae was in love with Julien. Nothing else accounted for this. She said she’d only go back to protect Johnny. But now, refusing Brady’s help, refusing to get law enforcement involved? No, there was something else going on. Rae’d stolen evidence that m
ight be able to topple Julien’s enterprise, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t willing to use it. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to hurt the man she’d called her husband. The man she loved.
Brady saw one slat of the blinds lift. She was watching.
He reversed out of the driveway and turned down the narrow road that circled the lake. A hundred yards down the road, he pulled over.
What was he doing? He couldn’t leave. She might not love him, but he loved her with an intensity he’d never known. He’d stay, he’d watch what happened. If that meant he had to witness her happy reunion with the man of her dreams, so be it. More likely, he’d witness her stealing out of town in the middle of the night like a criminal.
Brady turned his truck around, drove back to the cabin, and stopped just before the driveway. The trees should hide him from her view. Not too far, though. He needed to be able to see the front door.
He’d stay to see what happened. Maybe he was wrong and Rae wasn’t planning on leaving tonight. On the other hand, maybe Julien and his minions were on their way right now. Rae seemed to think Julien might have mercy on her, but Brady wasn’t that stupid. He’d be here to protect her, whether she wanted it or not.
Forty-Eight
Julien stared at the television as horror dripped down his spine. Bodies, broken and charred, were carried from the building. Other victims stood on the sidewalk, their faces covered with blood, soot, and ash. The expressions of the onlookers who hadn’t run displayed their dread. More than once he saw people look up as if waiting for a plane to crash nearby. It wasn’t the scale of September eleventh, but it was a terrible reminder. Terrorists strike New York, again.
Only this time, the terrorists had bombed a cafe near Columbia. Rae’s alma mater.
And this time, the terrorist was Julien.
Nausea twisted in his stomach, and he nearly didn’t make it to the bathroom before his dinner came up. He rinsed his mouth and washed his hands. Then he stared in the mirror at the man he’d become.
Looking back was a man he’d never acknowledged. The man he’d always been. Maybe he’d never had a choice about how he spent his life. Did violence and evil pass in the DNA? Maybe somewhere along the way, he might have taken a different path.
Maybe it didn’t matter. He was who he was, and there was no redemption now. He’d made his choices. All his fantasies about being an architect had been just that—fantasies. The life he lived, the money, the status, the power. The fear he saw in his underlings’ eyes. No, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The image in the mirror smiled. There was freedom in the truth.
He returned to his spot in front of the TV.
No way Hector had done this on his own. No way he could have. The bombing in Tunis, maybe. The man had enough contacts there. But New York? Hector had never been to New York before. To pull off a stunt like this, he’d have needed help.
Hector wasn’t working alone. The truth was clear now. Hector had betrayed Julien to his father. And Alejandro was pulling the strings.
So much for friendship and loyalty.
He turned to find Boyle staring at him. The man had long since quit struggling with the ropes that bound him. He seemed to have lost the energy. “You really will stop at nothing to find her.”
“Shut up.”
“Was your friend right? Or do you approve of his methods?”
“I don’t approve of my wife stealing my child.” He turned his attention back to the news.
“Why are you doing this?” Boyle asked.
Julien didn’t respond.
“Rae loved you.”
It was the first time the reporter acknowledged that he’d recognized him. Julien glanced at him, surveyed the man’s injuries, his resolve to do the right thing.
“You should have heard the way she talked about you,” Boyle said. “She respected you. She admired you, and that’s saying something. Rae doesn’t admire just anybody.”
Was the man speaking truth? Had Rae truly loved him? All his theories that their marriage had been nothing but a ruse to bring him to justice or work with his enemies—was none of that true?
“I’m surprised you were able to fool her so thoroughly,” Boyle said. “You must’ve really charmed her. She thought you were a saint.”
Julien wanted to silence the man. Not because he didn’t want to hear the words. More because he wanted them so badly to be true. Those words flowed over his scarred and broken places like a healing salve. Had she ever really felt anything for him, though? Or were these just more lies.
Boyle continued. “I guess she figured out you’re not the Boy Scout she thought you were. I guess she figured out you’re really just a two-bit terrorist.”
Julien lifted the gun from the nightstand and pointed it at Boyle. “Be quiet.”
“You aren’t going to hurt me. That’s what you pay Hector for, right?”
He shrugged and lowered the gun. “I prefer not to get blood on my hands.”
Boyle nodded toward the television set. “You have plenty of blood on your hands, Julien Moreau.”
Julien glared at him, then turned away. He studied the ropes that bound Boyle to the bed. The way he’d winced when Hector had moved him, Julien suspected a few broken ribs, if not more. The man was no threat. Julien tossed the gun back on the bed and glanced at the door.
“What are you going to do when you find her?” Boyle asked.
“Are you going to tell me where she is?”
The man started to shake his head, then stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. Julien could just imagine the headache pounding after Hector’s many blows. Boyle swallowed hard. “You keep killing people, she’ll find you.”
He glanced at the carnage on the TV, then back at the reporter. “Do you have feelings for my wife?”
Boyle met his eyes. “Do you?”
Julien nearly smiled. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I guess not.”
A moment passed before Julien said, “I’m trying to protect her.”
“I’m not going to tell you where she is, so there’s no point in lying.”
“I’m not lying.” He turned off the television. “If my father gets the opportunity, he’ll kill her. Mine is not a family one runs from. I don’t want to hurt her. I hope she doesn’t force me to.”
“You could just let her go.”
“A death sentence. My father will never let her go.”
“And you would?”
Julien pondered the question. If given the option, would he?
No. Never. She belonged to him.
He reclined on the other bed and stared at the ceiling. Boyle didn’t say another word, and the seconds ticked until finally, the door opened. Hector stepped in first—the man hadn’t an ounce of basic manners. Farah followed, small and nervous. And of course she would be—she knew what he’d done.
Julien pointed at the black TV screen. “This is your idea of a plan, Hector? Kill people all over the world.”
Another of Hector’s rare grins filled his face. “You said to find her using—”
“Yes, yes. Surely you could have found a better way. At least you could have bombed a building that wasn’t occupied.”
“She needs to be motivated.”
“And how many people are looking for you right now?”
Hector shrugged. “I paid a fall guy who’ll take credit. By the time the man tells them the truth, we’ll be out of the country. Besides”—Hector nodded toward Boyle—“he needs to be motivated.”
The reporter’s eyes widened.
Julien looked back at Hector. “What is your plan?”
Hector’s face shone with excitement.
Forty-Nine
Rae watched at the window until their cars disappeared.
Why had she sent them away? What she wanted most was to be with them, her best friend and the love of her life.
But she knew the answer before she’d finished locking the cabin door. Now that
she was back in Nutfield, she never wanted to leave again. Being with Brady and Sam was just making it harder. And if Brady got any inkling of her plan before she was ready to implement it, he’d talk her out of it. She’d gladly let him. And then what would happen?
The cabin’s living room seemed foreign, almost surreal. How had she gotten here? She’d changed her name in college for what had seemed a perfectly logical reason. Who wouldn’t tire of being famous—infamous to some—for sending her mother to prison? She’d been the girl who’d rescued the congressman’s infant from the crazy woman, dogged and hounded by the media until she couldn’t take it anymore. Changing her name had enabled her to avoid Brady and Samantha, a nice bonus when she was so angry with them. Seemed ridiculous now. Childish even.
The news frenzy had finally died down as the media turned its attention to something new. Rae had grown up, looked different, and suddenly wasn’t recognized anymore. She’d planned to go to Cornell until that reporter had shown up at Brady’s house graduation night. She’d been working on some sort of where are they now stories about child celebrities. As if Rae had ever wanted to be a celebrity. She’d turned the woman down for interview after interview, so when she’d seen her at Brady’s house that night, Rae had been furious.
She’d made a scene. Thank God the reporter had left already, encouraged by Brady’s father when he saw Rae’s shock. Maybe Rae had been justified in her anger after Brady’s mother’s accusation. “I told you, she’s just like her mother.”
But that was nothing compared with Brady’s silence. He’d had two choices that night, defend her or join her accusers. He’d chosen the second.
Somewhere through the years, Rae realized Brady’s mother had been fearful. Her son had fallen in love with the daughter of a crazy woman, and Mrs. Thomas didn’t want that kind of wife for her son. She didn’t want those genes passed along to her grandchildren.
Convenient Lies Page 22
