It was too easy. No real identification was done, no fingerprints, no nothing. Just the word of a neighbor. I know what happened now. He never really got away. They had been watching him all along, and this was their chance to get both of us.
‘And you’re wrong about one thing. I didn’t sell you out. You sold yourself out. You always told me you hated your father, but you didn’t. He challenged you, and you always loved a challenge.’
I hate it that Ian knows me so well.
He stares me straight in the eye. ‘You sent that postcard.’
I don’t need the reminder that I’d been stupid, and I am about to say something sarcastic, but he isn’t done yet.
‘It won’t be easy for you, Tina. I told them you killed Zeke. They want you for murder. Not just the money.’
Without thinking, I lunge toward him and take a swing at him, my fist making contact with the side of his face. I am much stronger than I used to be, and the blow surprises him and he stumbles backward, clutching his cheek.
‘What the fuck—’
‘Right, Ian, what the fuck?’ I could kill him, right now, right here, as the rage rushes through me. I remember the gun. Where did he put it?
‘I was pissed at you.’
‘You were pissed at me? I did leave you some money, Ian. It wasn’t my fault that they found it before you could get it.’ My heart is pounding. The FBI is here on the island, looking for me, because I am wanted for killing one of their own.
I am not going to be able to get away so easily.
I push the anger down, out of the way. I can’t think like this. I turn away from him, collapsing into the hay, its smell a mixture of sweet and sour. I feel his hand on my back and I twist around and push it away. He frowns, as if he doesn’t understand.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ I ask. ‘You sold me out to the Feds. And you’re married. I don’t think so.’
He leans back against the side of the pen and gives me a wistful look. I turn back to stare at the wooden slats between the pen we’re in and the next one. It is going to be a long couple of hours, but I still have more questions.
‘How is it you’re driving Tony DeMarco’s car? And that you knew he had the postcard?’ I will not look at him, and my questions are muffled by the hay.
He hears me, though, and clears his throat as though he is about to lie.
‘I thought he could help me.’
I am so surprised by this truth that I roll over to look at him. He gives me a wan smile. ‘I thought he could help me find you.’
I am actually surprised that with the resources Tony has that he couldn’t find me until now. I know I left traces. I flew back using the same passport, although I stopped using Amelie’s name once I got here. I bought a car in New York with five hundred dollars in cash and headed east, uncertain where I’d end up. I left the car in the ferry parking lot. If they’d just been able to follow the breadcrumbs, they would have found me years ago.
‘So he knew that you were considered dead?’
Ian nods. ‘I told him everything was your idea. The fact that you left me there with nothing proved it. Having me dead was convenient for him.’ A darkness crosses his face, and I know that Ian’s desperation had sealed his fate. ‘Tony DeMarco doesn’t help anyone for nothing. I had to do what he wanted.’
I don’t want to know what Tony made him do. The fact that he is carrying a gun says enough.
I don’t want to hear any more. I roll over and put my arms over my head, burrowing. I hear the hay rustling and know he is settling in as well. He is done with his confessions, and I don’t want to know any more.
THIRTY-THREE
The moonlight streams across the hay in the pen, and I hear footsteps. I sit up quickly to see a shadow looming over me.
‘It’s just one of the animals,’ Ian whispers, startling me further.
I take short, shallow breaths. ‘I know,’ I finally say. I brush the hay out of my hair and adjust my glasses on my nose. I scramble to my feet. ‘OK, time to go.’ I have no idea what time it is, but it’s dark and we need to move.
As we get outside, a car is coming up the hill toward us, the headlights blinding me for a second. Ian hooks his arm around mine and pulls me away from the side of the road. He leans into me and he is kissing me; this time it’s a diversion. The driver will only see a couple kissing in the moonlight.
When the car passes, Ian loosens his hold on me slightly. In the moonlight, for a second, I see a sadness in his face. He knows it’s over, too. I wonder whether after I do the job for him he will let me go quietly or call the Feds on me. Or maybe he’ll call Tony. The anger is still simmering just beneath the surface, and he is still carrying a gun.
We continue down the road, past Veronica’s gallery and the National Hotel, around the curve and the Sunswept Spa.
‘Where the hell are we going?’ Ian mutters.
‘It’s a bit of a walk,’ I say.
‘Where, to Long Island?’
‘You mean Rhode Island.’
‘Yeah, whatever. Too many islands for me. I’d rather be connected to real land.’
I hear the car turn the corner behind us before the headlights hit us. We move over to the side of the road; Ian’s hand curls around mine, his other hand is clutching the duffel bag. I wait for the car to pass us, but it doesn’t. It slows down until it is crawling beside us. I look over at it and see Steve has opened the passenger window. If he is surprised to see Ian, he doesn’t show it.
‘Can I give you a ride?’ he asks casually, as though he is merely picking up a fare.
Ian gives his head a quick shake. ‘We’re fine here.’
But Steve doesn’t buy it, and the SUV suddenly jerks forward and across our path. Steve jumps out and comes around the front. Ian’s hand tightens around mine.
‘What’s going on?’ he asks, looking from me to Ian and back to me again.
‘Just taking a walk,’ Ian says.
‘Nicole?’ Steve is not stupid.
‘Ian and I are going back to my room,’ I say. I do not want him here. Ian has a gun, and he has used it before when someone got in the way. ‘I’m fine. You can go home.’
However, Steve is looking straight at Ian now. ‘The police chief is looking for you.’
‘Be a pal and don’t tell him you saw me, OK?’ Ian flashes the smile that used to make me melt and usually charms. Steve is not charmed.
‘Why? Why should I do that for you, after what you’ve done to Nicole?’ I have never heard Steve so confrontational. I want to tell him to let it go, that I can handle it from here, but the words get stuck in my throat. Instead, I reach out and touch his arm. He glances down at it, then at my face. ‘Why are you doing this? Why are you taking him to your room?’ He is genuinely perplexed.
‘It’s OK,’ I say again. ‘I’ll be OK.’
He doesn’t believe me. He turns on Ian again. ‘Are you threatening her?’
Ian slings an arm around my shoulder and it is all I can do not to flinch. ‘She wants to take me to her room. Last I knew, she was a grown up and could make her own decisions.’
‘Nicole?’ Steve asks.
A lump forms in my throat, keeping me from speaking. I swallow hard. ‘It’s OK,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll call you later, all right?’
His anger gone, Steve is deflated. He strokes his beard and studies me for a few seconds before nodding. ‘OK. But if I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’m going to call Frank.’
He’s going to tell Frank Cooper where I am. Where Ian is. He’s giving us an hour. Not much time in my world, but I’ll have to make it work.
‘That’s fine,’ I say.
Steve gives me one final minute to change my mind, and when I don’t say anything, he climbs back into his SUV. The engine roars and he peels away as though he’s going to a fire. We watch his taillights go around the corner and disappear.
I shrug off Ian’s arm and begin to jog.
‘What’s the hurry?’ I hear hi
m ask from behind. I am moving too fast for him.
‘You heard him. He’s going to call the police chief in an hour.’
‘If you don’t call him.’
‘He just said that. He’s going to call. So let’s get this done.’
Ian manages to keep up with me and soon we are approaching Hydrangea House. I open the front door and we go in. Lillian is sitting in the dining room to the left and spots us. She frowns when she sees Ian.
‘A friend,’ I explain. ‘He’s just here to pick something up and he’ll be gone.’
She doesn’t believe me. She’s staring at the duffel bag in Ian’s hand, and I can see she’s weighing whether to charge me for another person in the room.
‘Really,’ I say quickly. ‘He’s not staying.’ I begin to climb the stairs, Ian behind me. Lillian doesn’t say anything, but between her and Steve, my hiding place isn’t going to be safe for very long.
We reach the room, and I pull out the key and let us in. Ian puts the duffel bag on the bed and walks around, checking the room out.
‘Looks like Little House on the Prairie in here,’ he says, fingering the lace curtain.
I am pulling the laptop out from under the bed, careful to push the backpack with my money in it further into the darkness beneath. He doesn’t notice, and I begin to breathe a little easier. I open the laptop on the desk and boot it up.
‘What is it that you need me to do?’ I ask.
‘It’s like before,’ he begins, but I hold up my hand.
‘No explanations. Just tell me straight out. We don’t have much time, and I hope I don’t have to get in anywhere that’s too difficult or too time consuming. Is it the bank? The same bank?’
‘Yes.’
I already know how to get past the firewall, but then I remember. ‘I tried to sign in there before and it wouldn’t let me in.’
Ian gives me a panicked look. ‘What?’
‘I remembered the username and password. I tried them, but they didn’t work.’
Relief floods his face. ‘No, no, those were for the site where you’ll transfer the money. You have to find the username and password for this account.’
But before I do anything: ‘Whose?’
He hesitates.
‘Whose account, Ian?’
He purses his lips, then says, ‘Paul Michaels. I’m going after Paul Michaels.’
I am confused. He is Paul Michaels. Isn’t he?
‘Listen, Tina, just do it, OK? Stop asking questions. You said you would do it.’
As if my word still means something. I stare at him for a few seconds, then turn to the laptop. I use the VPN and get to the bank website. ‘You haven’t made this easy.’ I find the portal I got through before. I wish I could get in touch with Tracker, but I can’t do that in front of Ian, and I have no idea whether I can even find him quickly.
But as I’m staring at the code on the screen, my head starts spinning and suddenly I’m back in my room in Miami, the palm trees swaying outside my window. I close my eyes and the palm trees disappear and the codes flash in front of my eyes, the ones I was so used to. It has been a long time, but it hasn’t. I have changed, but I haven’t.
The codes are the same, the language is the same, and my fluency comes back in a rush.
I begin my work. Ian is behind me, watching over my shoulder, but he can’t know what it is I’m doing, because I’m not even sure. I’m on autopilot, my memory kicking in, and I remember everything.
The screen begins scrolling itself, the codes turning into usernames until I finally find the one I need. I scribble it on a small pad of paper next to me and begin to look for the passwords. This is easier now that I know what I’m doing, but it still takes me a while to find the right one. I jot that down next to the username, and hold the pad up for Ian to see.
He is on the bed, sleeping. I glance at the clock and see that it has been over an hour – an hour and a half – and I have not called Steve. I reach for the phone and dial his cell number.
‘You didn’t call Frank yet, did you?’ I ask without saying hello.
‘What are you up to, Nicole?’
‘Nothing. Not really. You didn’t call him, did you?’
‘You’ve been up there a long time.’
I realize now that Steve is outside, watching the house, waiting to see if Ian is going to leave.
‘You’ll see that the lights are on,’ I say, getting up and going over to the window. I pull back the curtain and yes, there is Steve’s SUV parked by the side of the road. I give him a small wave. ‘We are just talking about things. Don’t worry about me.’
‘Until he leaves, I’m going to worry.’
‘I know. He’s going to leave soon. Really.’
‘I’m staying until he does.’
‘OK.’ I hang up the phone and go to the bed and shake Ian. He frowns at me as though he doesn’t quite know who I am at first, and then recognition enters his eyes.
‘Are you done?’
‘Almost.’ I go back to the laptop and he gets off the bed and scoots the other chair over next to me. By the time he does, I have typed in the password for Paul Michaels’s account.
My finger hovers over the key. ‘If you are Paul Michaels, why are we hacking into your account?’
‘It’s my money. I can put it where I want.’
‘If it’s your money, then why don’t you know your own username and password? Why did you need me?’ The curiosity gets the better of me, and I finally do hit enter.
As I stare at the screen, I am stunned by the two balances I see. ‘Why would anyone keep this amount of money in a checking account?’ I ask, counting the six figures. ‘Especially a debit account, which is easier to compromise than a credit card?’
‘Don’t worry about that.’
That’s exactly what I am worried about.
‘This isn’t really your account, is it? Who is Paul Michaels, Ian? And don’t give me any bullshit about how it’s you.’
‘Just transfer the damn money, Tina.’ He reaches behind him and pulls the gun out from his waistband, pointing it at me.
‘If you shoot me, you’ll never get the money, Steve will hear the shot and call the police, and you’ll never get out here alive. We’ll both be dead.’ I pause. ‘Like Zeke.’
He shakes his head slowly, the gun moving closer to my chest. ‘You loved him, didn’t you?’
‘No. I never loved him. And when I knew he knew, I left with you. Not with him.’
‘But he found us. How did he find us, Tina? You never made mistakes.’
I am astonished he can say it with a straight face, that he can seem so genuinely perplexed as to how Zeke knew where we were. I shake my head slowly. ‘I didn’t tell him anything, Ian. It wasn’t me, and you know it.’ And then I tell him what I have known all these years. The reason why I left that night, took all the money I could and never said goodbye.
‘It was you.’
THIRTY-FOUR
I knew as soon as Zeke told me he was going to leave his wife that I needed to put our escape plan into action.
‘He was looking at my laptop,’ I told Ian when I called him from a pay phone on Brickell Avenue.
‘Did he see anything?’
‘Of course not. But he suspects.’
‘Then why did he tell his wife he’s leaving her for you?’
‘He’s going to try to protect me.’ As I said it, I knew it was true. Zeke wasn’t just willing to leave his wife. He was willing to put his job on the line for me. Even though I had told him I didn’t love him, I did care for him. I couldn’t let him do that.
‘Then let him.’
‘I’ve got the documents and the airline reservations. We leave tomorrow night.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘We can’t take any chances.’
‘It’s been a month. Don’t you think if he suspected you, he would’ve already arrested you? I mean, he is FBI.’
I couldn’t understand why Ian was
fighting me like this. We’d talked about having to leave at some point. He was the one who came up with our new names. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Are we going to be able to get to the money over there?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t you trust me?’ From the hesitation, it was clear that he didn’t. ‘OK, fine. I’ll go by myself. You can stay.’
‘You’re not going without me.’ He really didn’t trust me. He thought that if I left, the money would go with me. What had happened to us? Two months ago we were in love, we still couldn’t keep our hands off each other, then Zeke showed up and everything changed.
‘Then meet me at the airport tomorrow. The flight leaves at eight. We’ll be in Paris in time for breakfast.’ We’d agreed that Paris was a good choice, since I was fluent in French. I’d also arranged a place for us to live, but Ian didn’t know about the houseboat yet. I’d wanted to surprise him, but the way he was acting, I wasn’t so sure I should. I shrugged off my doubts. ‘OK?’
‘OK.’ He hung up, and I stared at the phone for a few seconds, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Ironic, since I had already stolen ten million dollars for him.
We were happy, though, those days in Paris – at least, that’s what I’d thought. The houseboat rocked gently on the Seine as we sat outside in blue-and-white striped chairs, drinking coffee, flowers in pots surrounding us, the Eiffel Tower towering nearby. In all the time I had spent in France when I was a child with my grandmother, I had rarely come to this city, and we spent our days discovering its treasures and secrets. It was as though the last months had never happened. It was stolen kisses and holding hands as we wandered the cobblestone streets, buying cheese and bread and chocolates. It was Ian again; it had always been Ian.
Until Zeke came out of the shadows as I left the café that night and followed me home.
‘You called his office. Zeke’s office. You didn’t tell him who you were but you told him where I was.’ The old familiar anger rises in my chest and I force it back down. I can’t afford to let it out. Not yet.
Ian snorts. ‘You’re crazy.’
‘Am I? You set me up.’ I give him a sad smile. ‘You didn’t know how much Zeke loved me. Not really.’ I close my eyes for a second and see it all again, then open them quickly so I can push it away.
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