Maggie’s expression immediately fell with concern. “Oh, no. Is she going to be okay?”
I waved a hand in the air and furrowed my brow. I needed to be concerned but not overly so—this was just the flu. And I was a veteran parent. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. She just caught a bug or something from school. It’s that time of year when all the little kids start wiping their snot everywhere.”
“Do you need to go?”
“I called Francesca and she’s going to grab her since she’s closer, but I’m wondering about tomorrow. Her daycare’s policy is twenty-four hours without a fever. And she’s throwing up and who knows what else is wrong with her. Would it be possible to get the day off? I know that puts you in a bind but—”
“Oh, stop,” she ordered. “We’ll be just fine for one day.” She pointed a finger at me. “Just make sure it’s only one day though. Otherwise things start to fall apart and I’m too old to deal with all that.”
My smile wobbled, despite my years of training and my ability to lie. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to hurt Maggie or leave her. “It might end up being two days. Or even a week. You know how these things hang on.”
She sobered and moved closer to me. “Are you worried, darlin’? She’ll be okay. It’s just the touch of the flu. Nothing that she can’t handle.” I was full-fledged crying now, weeping like a complete moron and total guilty party. “Oh, no, Caroline. Did I say something to upset you? I’m so sorry.”
I moved around the desk and met her halfway, clearly concerned for me. I threw my arms around her neck and started sobbing against her shoulder. She hesitated, but eventually hugged me back. It was the first time we’d ever embraced. Neither Maggie nor I were the touchy-feely types, so there had never been anything more between us than an occasional high five.
Realizing how strange I was acting, I pulled back and started wiping my eyes. “Sorry,” I hiccupped. “I don’t know what came over me. Sometimes the single parent thing is really hard.” And I started crying all over again, because that was true but it was also a lie. And I found that I didn’t want to lie to Maggie. I didn’t even care about protecting her. I wanted to confess, to spill everything just so she could give me guidance. I’d survived five years on Maggie’s good, wise advice and it sucked that the time I needed it the most I couldn’t ask for it.
“Caroline, you’re worrying me.”
Laughing nervously, I took another step back. “I’m PMSing or something. I’m acting like an idiot.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Is there something you want to talk about?”
Yes. So much. “I’m really okay,” I promised her. And it wasn’t a total lie. This was hard. This was unbearable. But saving Juliet would make it worth it. Keeping Francesca away from her psychotic family of criminals would make it okay. “I’ve just been stressed lately and I keep everything bottle up. That was the cathartic release I needed.”
Her frown deepened. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I wasn’t. I was the best liar. Which meant I could lie myself out of this situation too. “I’m going to go check on cabin ten. They called earlier to say their dishwasher was acting funny. I’ll find out if we should call the handyman or if it’s a simple fix. Then I’ll take off for the night, okay?”
She still had that concerned look on her face. “You’ll call me if you need me?”
“Of course. Thank you for offering.”
I was halfway through the door when Maggie added, “Give my love to Juliet. Tell her when she gets better you two can take me out to dinner.”
Her suggestion made me smile. “Oh, wow, Maggie, that’s so generous of you.”
She smiled and her brows relaxed, transforming her face from drill sergeant to stunning. “If you’re good, I might even let you take me to a movie.”
My head tipped back and I laughed a real, genuine sound that I was beyond grateful for. “You’re so full of it.”
It was her turn to laugh. “You love me for it.”
Heading toward the front door, I was grateful for the natural opportunity to reply, “I do love you for it. Very much.”
By the time I stepped outside, I felt marginally better. Maggie and I were parting on a good foot. On Friday when I still hadn’t shown up for three days, she might hate me. And I wouldn’t blame her. But today we were as good of friends as always. And I would remember this goodbye for the rest of my life.
I did what I said I was going to do. I drove the ATV to cabin ten and talked to the guests about their dishwasher and what it was doing. I could see Sayer’s Jeep up a short hill at the end of this driveway. And when I left cabin ten, Gus’s Subaru had joined it.
They were both there. Now was my chance.
I hurried back to the office and got it ready for the rest of the week. I wasted precious seconds organizing and scheduling and writing To Do Lists for Maggie and making sure she had access to all of our different passwords. I just wanted her to be set up for success. I didn’t want her to lose me and flounder because she didn’t know our social media passwords or how much we paid the paper goods delivery guy.
When all was said and done, I pressed a kiss to my palm and laid it on the tall, worn counter. This place had been a second home to me for five years. I was going to miss it as fiercely as I would miss Maggie.
Driving back to town with the mountain in my rearview mirror felt like a death, like I was watching someone die. So I focused on the drive ahead, refusing to watch the life behind me fade.
I got back to town near six o’clock. The sun was hovering low over the peaks of the distant mountains and the sky was darkening quickly. The temperature was dropping too, giving the air a bite, smelling of possible snow.
After driving around the block three times, I parked in an alley between two resort hotels just off Main Street. I left my Murano unlocked and circled around the block so I could walk down the main road and enter the DC Initiative through the front door.
I was dressed for work, but not sloppy, so I hoped I didn’t draw too much attention in my black, distressed skinny jeans and thick gray cardigan. The hostess seemed to turn up her nose at me, but I didn’t get the vibe that she was watching me in particular, at least no more than she was judging the world around her as a whole.
“I’m just going to have a drink at the bar,” I told her, flying by without slowing down.
Cass was bartending again and I was grateful to see her. I should have been ducking from any people that could spot me, identify me, testify against me, but there was something about seeing a familiar face that calmed some of my frantic nerves. Besides, I’d only been in here once, I didn’t exactly have the place perfectly cased.
“Hey, mama,” she greeted me as I slid onto a bar stool. “What brings you in tonight with no date and no kids?”
I smiled weakly. “That exact reason? I need some me time.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Can I get an amen?” She held up a bottle of gin and a bottle of vodka. “Pick your poison?”
I pointed at the gin. “Lime and tonic please.”
“You got it.”
Fiddling with my purse straps, I made a show of pulling out my phone to check it and then tucked it away when there was nothing. “Hey, Cass?” She raised her eyebrows indicating that she was listening even though she was in the middle of my drink. “Last time I was here, Sayer and Gus took Jesse and me to the basement. Is it only the office down there? Or are there other rooms? I was so like, shocked by their office, I can’t seem to remember anything else of what I saw.”
She laughed. “Right? I can’t believe they have all that stuff just lying around. But I guess it’s secured and neither of them have permanent homes right now. So maybe it’s the safest place for them? Who knows.”
“You’ve seen everything?” Great, all I needed were more witnesses that could place the Leighton to a specific place, city, state with me.
“I mean, I didn’t get a special tour…” She lifted her eyes and gave m
e a poignant look. “But I’ve been down there to have meetings and talk to them and whatnot. There’s a diamond necklace that I’m fairly confident weighs more than me that belongs in the Tower of London.”
The diamond necklace had once belonged to an Austrian empress. I’d lifted the shiny bobble from a Russian ambassador during a job. It had been very dangerous and very secured. It had taken months of planning and a huge amount of luck. We’d been sent in for documents. I came out with a necklace, a matching pair of earrings and tiara. I remember feeling entitled to them after nearly getting caught and extradited to Russia. “No way,” I feigned awe. “I didn’t see a diamond necklace! I was too overwhelmed to take any of it in.”
Her smile turned conspiratorial. “I’ve heard rumors that there’s an entire drawer of expensive jewelry. It must be worth millions.”
It was in fact, worth millions. Millions and millions and millions. But most of it was too dangerous to fence. There were only a few pieces that wouldn’t be tied directly to me and in those, there were only a few pieces that would get their actual value in cash.
Austrian diamonds were pretty and fun to brag about. But the street value for them was atrocious. Nobody appreciated history anymore. But more than that, there was greater risk with getting caught. Online databases and technology advances in CSI made everyone a little more cautious about getting involved with a hot item.
“Aren’t they afraid someone’s going to steal it all?” I asked Cass.
She shrugged. “Actually, no. They’re maybe the nicest people I’ve ever met. I think if you needed money or something, they’d just hand it over to you. You wouldn’t even have to steal it.” She glanced around and leaned in. “Last week, I had a really bad day. Get this. My ex showed up in town and tried to take Max away and when I called the cops, he tore my apartment apart and then he stole from me. All of my money. Not only did Gus and Sayer give me the week off, they still paid me.”
“That was nice of them.” I didn’t mention that this business was probably a money laundering front and they were most likely washing money through her. Nor did I mention that they probably went after her ex and made sure he was never going to come back. Because that would upset her.
I was a good friend like that.
This also explained the gooey stars dancing in her eyes for Sayer and Gus. I would too if they’d cleaned up my mess like they did Cass’s. Instead, they showed up and made mine bigger. They took the mess of my life and tripled it, quadrupled it, fucking blew it up until all I could see was a mess and all I would have time for was mess.
I laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “Where’s your restroom?”
She pointed toward the back where I already knew it was. “Thanks, Cass.”
“Hey, let’s have a playdate soon,” she suggested. “Max would love to get together with Juliet.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I smiled, hiding the sadness in my eyes. “Juliet would love that too.”
We said official goodbyes and I walked toward the back, pretending to look for the restrooms.
It didn’t matter where I was walking because I slipped down the stairs as soon as I was hidden behind the art display dividers. I crept down them slowly, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. Nobody seemed to notice me or my snooping. Which was a good thing because I planned to do a lot more of it.
At the bottom of the stairs, I took my time opening doors down the corridor and listening for anyone that could have followed me. I found the supply closet and a janitor’s closet, and lo and behold, an emergency exit to outside. It led to a stairwell that resurfaced in an alley.
I went back to the supply closet, found a box cutter and snipped the wires connected to the push bar on the door just in case an alarm went off when I opened it. I tucked the box cutter into my pocket and headed for the office.
It appeared to be locked, which I had suspected it would be. But it seemed to be a more complicated system than the first time I was here. It wanted fingerprints and a key code. I didn’t have the right fingerprints, nor did I have time to figure out the right code.
Damn it. I was just about to try to box cut my way through the door, when I noticed there were no lights on the keypad. I pushed my pointer finger to the scanner and nothing happened.
The lock system would be highly sophisticated, eventually, when they set it up. Currently, it was absolutely useless.
Smiling at my good luck, I pulled out my old set of curtain picks and quickly worked the mortise handle. It clicked open with a satisfying tick and I walked into the office with dollar signs cha-chinging in my eyes.
No, it was more than that. To say I was excited to make money was not the whole truth. It was the satisfaction from the job, the thrill of the hunt and spike of adrenaline.
I stood in the dark in the middle of the office, my blood rushing and a smile on my face, realizing something crucial. Oh, my god, I’d missed this. I felt more alive than I had in weeks… months… maybe years. Everything was suddenly in color again. Not just black and white or muted tones, but vibrant, effervescent, neon hues.
I wanted to believe I was all upstanding citizen and righteous moral compass, but the truth was, I was a criminal. To my very core. This was the life I had been raised in, the only truth I had ever known.
Caroline Valera was good at lying, but she was very good at stealing.
Tonight would not only be my vindication, it would be my redemption.
Moving immediately to Sayer’s desk, I flipped his lamp on and surveyed all that was available. I opened my big purse and started dumping things in it. Jewelry and a signed rare baseball, a collection of very old, very gold coins, whatever I could find that I thought would fetch a decent paycheck. I pulled the Leighton off the wall and set it near the door. It was mine. The hitman’s handbook too. And a Faberge egg that could have terrible consequences if anyone ever found out it was me that took it.
More, my greedy thief’s heart whispered.
It’s yours anyway, my better, usually moral side agreed.
He stole it from you.
Scanning the office, my eyes fell on the safe. I walked over to it and slid my hand along the top.
“What are you hiding?” I asked it. I could never have unlocked it without help. It was big and bulky and complicated—all the things I hated in a safe. And it was by a brand I didn’t recognize which meant I couldn’t even wing it. I had no idea how it was built or the secret to cracking it. It was a total and complete enigma.
Except it wasn’t locked.
I noticed the crack at the top when I ran my fingers over it. Gripping the large handle, I pulled. It opened. Haha! Hello, secrets.
Although part of me had to wonder how juicy these secrets were if Gus and Sayer didn’t even bother locking the safe behind them.
But when the door was open, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to know them after all. I had been expecting more valuables, maybe files they didn’t want other people to find. I wanted something from Sayer’s time in prison or Gus’s stint as the bookkeeper for the bratva.
Instead, I got one manila envelope. In the entire safe, just that one, thick, ominous envelop. And if the titling wasn’t a warning then I didn’t know what was. I started to question my entire time down here.
Where were Sayer and Gus? Didn’t they have a restaurant to run?
Had no one noticed me come down here? Was it really that easy?
No. On all of the jobs I’d ever been on, not one had been this easy.
In fact, we could say this was too easy.
Which meant something was wrong. This was a trap.
Caro.
That’s what was written on the envelope.
Simply, understated Caro written in Sayer’s handwriting.
I couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling that I’d just walked into something that I wouldn’t be able to walk out of, but I had to see what was inside the envelope. I mean, I was already planning on leaving tonight. There was nothing that could keep me in this
town. Nothing that would entice me to stay. No matter what Sayer had been able to gather on me.
There was no reason to be scared of a paper. Or an envelope. Or what was in it.
“Just do it,” I ordered myself. Shaking my head, I snatched it up and wondered why it was so heavy. I meant to drop it in my purse and get the hell out of there. I meant to maybe just burn it before I ever knew what was in it.
But that wasn’t what I did.
And how could I have? This was my life. I deserved to know what Sayer had done.
Chapter Twenty
The contents of the folder lay before me, overlapping, covering and revealing at the same time. It was exactly how I felt. Laid out, half of me completely exposed and the other half totally in the dark, utterly clueless.
There were recent pictures of me from before Sayer rolled into town. I read the timestamp and tried to think about my life back then. That was before the DC Initiative had even started renovation.
It was before Sayer had come here.
He’d hired someone to find me, take pictures of me. There I was walking out of the grocery story. There I was at work. There I was picking Juliet up from daycare.
My guts twisted together. He knew about her then. But did he know she was his? He’d never brought her up. Not even once.
Then there were printed emails with his PI. Have you found her? Sayer had asked. Maybe, his PI typed back. I’ll keep digging, but I found someone that matches the description. I want a picture, Sayer demanded. Not yet, his PI tried to reason with him, let me be sure.
Sayer had been unrelenting, Now.
That was the end of that email thread. I didn’t know what happened next, other than Sayer must have gotten some kind of confirmation because there were pictures of me everywhere. With Jesse on his ranch, at Foote’s with Francesca, with Maggie and two coffees between us and big smiles on our faces.
More correspondence, this time folded neatly in short, white envelopes—communication of some kind, only without addresses or return labels or stamps.
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