Convenient Lies

by Robin Patchen

  “Are you all right?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

  “Do you care?”

  She shrugged.

  “Ah.” He nodded slightly. “I think I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Take it however you want.”

  “So what’s your story, Rachel? Or should I call you Reagan?”

  “Rae works either way.”

  The phone rang. She said nothing, and neither did he. It rang five times before it stopped.

  Julien tipped his head toward her, and she said, “Reagan Elizabeth McAdams. I was named after Ronald Reagan. My father was a big fan.”

  “Charming,” he said. “Reagan McAdams. Your name is familiar, yes?”

  Even he’d heard of her. He’d been in America in college when the scandal had broken, so perhaps it wasn’t that big a shock. Still. “You’ve heard my name for the same reason I changed it.” She told him about her father’s death, her mother’s madness, and her part in returning that kidnapped baby boy to his parents. “I knew they’d return the baby to his mother. I never thought they’d throw my mother in prison.”

  He chuckled darkly. “You turned in your own mother. You and I never had a chance.”

  “No relationship built on lies can last.”

  Julien stared beyond her for a moment, seemed to be reining in emotion. Finally his gaze flicked back to her. “So you changed your name because you were famous?”

  “Infamous. College was a time for me to reinvent myself. I no longer wanted to be known as the girl who’d rescued a congressman’s kid and sent her mother to prison. I wanted to be invisible, not famous.”

  “I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for you,” he said. “To lose your father when you were so young, to have all that media attention. And then to lose your mother too. I wish you’d told me.”

  She didn’t need his compassion right now. His words were just lies, anyway.

  He stroked his son’s cheek. “I hope he has your courage.” He looked back at her and smiled. “I hope he has more courage than I did.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He swallowed, and she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his features.

  “Did I ever tell you I wanted to be an architect?”

  An architect? “You always liked to look at buildings.”

  “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved buildings. Old ones, new ones. Big ones. Houses like this one. So many things flit away from generation to generation, but the architecture stands as a testament to the past. To be able to contribute to that...”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Do you believe that when I was a small child playing with my blocks that I thought, I want to be an arms dealer when I grow up?”

  “You could have walked away.”

  He shook his head. “I never had the courage to stand up to my father. If I had—”

  “Would you have given it all up?”

  “We can never know.” He looked around and smiled. “This is where you grew up?” She nodded, and he continued. “Imagine if I could have stood up to my father. I wouldn’t have married Martine.”

  “She was your father’s idea?”

  “Her father was a rival. A criminal, like Papa. They formed an alliance. He arranged my marriage to Martine. We’d known each other for many years, and she was beautiful, a little older. I was in awe of her when I was young. Even when I got to know her and grew out of that awe, I liked her. I thought, why not? I had never been in love, so I didn’t know to wait for it. It wasn’t as though she expected me to be faithful.”

  “Was she faithful to you?”

  His eyes darkened. “Once, she was not. Her lover met with an unfortunate accident.”

  “So you are a killer.”

  He glared at her, and she swallowed.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I would never have. I didn’t love her, and she didn’t love me. When we discovered she wouldn’t be able to have children—”

  “That was so important?”

  He glanced at Johnny. “My brother is attempting to usurp my position in the family. Between his wife and his mistresses, he has many sons. With nobody to take over after me and the fact that my brother will do anything for money, my position was tenuous.”

  “But now you have Johnny.”

  “I planned to legitimize more of the business when I took over.”

  She noted the past tense. What did that mean?

  “Once Papa died, I planned to end our involvement in the drug trade and the sex trade and focus on my corporation. But my brother, he likes the lifestyle, the easy cash. He is like Papa—he has no morals.”

  “And you do?”

  He ignored her. “Martine and I decided to give up the charade and live separate lives. We were happy with the arrangement.”

  “Why not divorce?”

  He leveled his gaze at her, and the look said more than the words. “One doesn’t walk away from my family.”

  That’s just what she’d tried to do. Failed to do, because here he was. Her heartbeat raced, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. She couldn’t help but think about the man Martine had been with. And Brady’s kiss. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. “You say you didn’t hurt the man she was with, but somehow he ended up dead.”

  He nodded. “She has never forgiven me.”

  “But it wasn’t you.”

  He blew out a breath, then looked out the window. She followed his gaze. The blinds were tilted up, so they could just make out the tops of the trees.

  “New Hampshire is quite beautiful.”

  “Different from Africa.”

  “But lovely. You belong here. I’m sure you have family here. Friends? A community? You seemed so starved for that when I met you. Perhaps because you missed this one?”

  Had she been so transparent that her desperation to belong showed to the world? Or did Julien just know her better than she’d realized? She started to tell him that no, she didn’t have those things here, but then she thought of the week she’d spent here. Of Samantha and Gordon and Finn and the police that were rallying around her even now. She thought of Brady. Yes, she had people here. If only she’d known it sooner.

  When she didn’t answer, Julien continued. “I visited once, when I was at Harvard. Some friends and I rented a car and went skiing.” He tilted his head to the side, then shook it. “Perhaps that was Vermont.”

  “Was it fun?”

  He shrugged. “A little pathetic, compared with the Alps, but the town was charming. Like you. Down to earth. Homey. No pretense or sophistication.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He smiled his genuine smile. “I don’t mean it that way. Just that you never tried to be what you weren’t, despite your name change. You were always just...you.” He tapped on the old kitchen table. “Like this place, you don’t need to put on airs to be charming. You just are. You belong right here.”

  She looked around the kitchen with its sunny yellow walls and forever-old cabinetry, at the wood planks on the floor, well-worn in the high-traffic spots. She did belong here. Right here, in this house, in this town, in this state. And not with this man. She pictured Brady, knew he’d be coming soon. Her gaze was drawn to the pantry door beside Julien. If she could get him to move into the other room...

  The phone rang again.

  Julien sighed. “I suppose we should answer.”

  “Shall I?”

  “Would you tell them I’d like a few more minutes with you?”

  She grabbed the receiver of the wall-mounted phone. “It’s Rae.”

  “This is Chief Jamison. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Johnny...” She looked at Julien, whose eyebrows rose. “I mean, Jean-Louis is fine. I haven’t seen Caro, but Julien tells me she’s fine too. She’s upstairs with somebody. I don’t know who.”

  “Somebody dangerous?”

  “Probably.”

  “Is Julien
listening in?”

  “No. He’s holding the baby.”

  “Okay. So the baby is his shield. That’s good to know.”

  Rae looked at the man she’d loved for more than a year, the way he was holding their child. No, Julien wasn’t using Johnny as a shield. He wouldn’t hurt their son.

  The chief said, “Are you in imminent danger?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “The baby? Caro?”

  “We’re okay right now,” she said, meeting Julien’s eyes.

  “Besides the girl and whoever she’s with,” the chief said, “is anybody else in the house?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Julien’s eyebrows rose. “Am I going to see one of those red laser dots on my chest, Rae?”

  “Was that him?” the chief asked. “Can you put him on the phone?”

  She said to Julien, “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Tell him I need ten more minutes.”

  She did, then hung up and sat down. “What happens in ten minutes?”

  He shrugged. “It will all be over.”

  Sixty-Four

  Brady surveyed the scene at Rae’s house. Another month and the leaves would be off the trees. The three police cars, the ambulance, and the fire truck would have been visible through the forest. As it was, he’d had the fire truck parked a hundred yards down the road, just in case. But these woods were dense, and Rae’s house was set off the road. He didn’t think Moreau would be able to see them.

  More police cars had been stationed in the neighborhood behind her house. Four cops had crept through the woods, past the big rock that had served as home base for a thousand games of tag. They’d taken up position in the back of the property to ensure Julien and his goons didn’t escape that way.

  By all reports, there was no activity in the house. Sanders had seen Rae go inside. No movement since.

  The chief slid his phone into his pocket. “Rae answered.”

  “He let her answer?” Brady asked, looking toward the house again. What was Moreau thinking? “That’s unusual.”

  “She fine and said the baby is too. She didn’t see the girl, but Moreau assured her Caro’s unharmed, upstairs with somebody. She and Moreau are in the kitchen.”

  “Great. So there are at least two bad guys in there, and she and Moreau are sitting in the room we need.” He glanced at the upstairs windows. Wished he had more information. “Did you talk to him?”

  He shook his head. “He told Rae he needed ten minutes.”

  “For what?”

  “No way to know.”

  There was no time to waste trying to figure it out. Brady turned to Eric. “Ready?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Brady led the way through the woods to the side of the barn. Because the barn blocked the view of the west side of the house, unless one of Julien’s men were outside, Brady and Eric wouldn’t be seen. The toughest part would be getting in the door. They’d chosen the front because they felt it more likely that a bad guy might step out back. Julien had to know there were cops out front.

  And to ensure nobody stepped outside, Brady signaled the chief when he and Eric were ready, and Chief Jamison drove a radio car into the driveway.

  As soon as they saw the black-and-white, he and Eric bolted into the open space in front of the barn. While Eric watched the front door, gun drawn, Brady slid the key Finn had given him into the lock. They slipped inside.

  Eric closed the door behind them, and Brady crossed to the rug Finn had mentioned. Beneath it they found the same wood planks that made up the rest of the floor. If he hadn’t known there was a trapdoor there, he’d have missed it. There was a slightly larger gap in the floor around a misshapen, roughly three-foot by four-foot space.

  Brady’d have to ask Finn how he and his friend had found it. Those boys might be good at police work one day, assuming they could keep from breaking into old ladies’ houses.

  Brady pulled a small pry bar from his jacket pocket and silently thanked Finn for the heads’ up. He slid it between the planks and pressed down. The door lifted, and he and Eric quietly rested it on the floor to the side.

  Brady grabbed his flashlight, clicked it on, and met Eric’s eyes.

  He nodded, and Brady climbed down the steps into the tunnel.

  The air was moist and smelled like earth. The walls were hard-packed dirt, more like clay. Not the kind of soil common in this part of New Hampshire, so someone must’ve brought it in and packed this space. For what purpose he couldn’t imagine. As far as he knew, New Hampshire had never been a hotbed for any sort of military engagement. Maybe during the Revolution, but this house wasn’t that old.

  He reached the bottom of the steps, crouched down, and headed toward the house while Eric descended the stairs behind him.

  This tunnel was crazy. Why in the world...? On the other hand, in the cold, winter months when snow was measured by the foot instead of by the inch, a tunnel from the house to the barn would have been quite convenient. Maybe it was that simple. Somebody who wanted to feed the animals without having to step outside.

  Well, whatever the purpose, this tunnel, God willing, could save the day. Brady looked up at the dirt ceiling. He wasn’t much of a praying man, but he couldn’t help but think, thank you, God, for this. Then he added, please protect them. If You’re there, we need You now.

  No answer, but he didn’t need one. His answer would come when he held Rae and Johnny in his arms.

  He reached the other end of the tunnel and shined his flashlight on the stairs. His foot hit the first step, and he froze.

  He could hear a man’s voice.

  Brady crept up. The man’s accent reminded him of Pepe Le Pew. Though Julien was more a snake than a skunk.

  He shook off the thought and pulled the can of WD-40 from his jacket pocket. He found the hinges with the flashlight and waited. He could barely make out the words. He waited until it sounded like Moreau was on a roll, then he sprayed the hinges and hoped the sound wouldn’t travel.

  No change in the voice inside.

  Now if only the hinges wouldn’t squeak.

  When Eric was standing behind him, Brady slid the latch and pulled on the door. It stuck at first, then gave way to reveal the darkened pantry. Had the door scraping across the linoleum floor alerted Moreau? Brady waited and listened. Nothing had changed, except now he could hear Rae’s voice. They were obviously right there, in the kitchen, just like she’d said.

  He turned and met Eric’s eyes. Eric had a question there. Brady wished he had an answer. With Rae and Julien in the kitchen, there was nothing they could do but wait.

  Sixty-Five

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had Rae and Julien peering toward the front of the house. Rae expected him to rise, to see what was going on, since they couldn’t see the front door from where they sat. If she could get him out of the kitchen, maybe he’d stay out. But without knowing where Caro was, how could Rae escape, even if she could grab Johnny? Julien might take out his anger on the girl.

  The point was moot, because Julien settled deeper in the chair.

  “I’m sure whoever that is, they’re here for you.” He shifted the baby, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a pistol.

  She gasped, and he set the pistol on the table.

  She swallowed, tried to think of something to say. Tried to force her voice to work. All she could do was stare at the gun.

  “It’s almost over now,” he said.

  She tore her gaze from the gun to look at their child. His breathing was normal, deep and clear. No wheezing, no screaming. She willed him to stay asleep. Whatever happened, she didn’t want her baby to witness it.

  She wasn’t going to think about that gun. Julien wouldn’t hurt their child, and as long as Caro, Johnny, and Brady were safe, she didn’t care what happened to her.

  That’s what she told herself, but tears fi
lled her eyes. She wasn’t ready for it to end here.

  Dear God, she thought, then stopped. What did they call that? A foxhole conversion? She’d always snickered at the idea, but it wasn’t so funny now. If she’d paid more attention in church, she might know what to say. As it was, she couldn’t think of anything but help.

  Julien shifted, and when he did, he winced.

  “Are you sick?” she asked, mostly to fill the silence. “Maybe you picked up something on the plane too.”

  He chuckled. “I definitely picked up something.”

  “Can I get you some ibuprofen? A glass of water?”

  He glanced at the back windows, then at the kitchen cabinets. “How very gracious of you.”

  She stood and found the pills in the cabinet. While she was filling the water glass, she said, “We can go in the living room, if you like. You might be more comfortable.”

  “I’m comfortable here,” he said, though he looked anything but.

  She handed him the pills and held the water glass. The gun was just inches away. She considered reaching for it. If she could just grab it... What could she do, with Johnny in his arms? She could run, but not without her son. She could point it at Julien, force him to put the baby down. Yell for Brady. Was he right behind that pantry door? What could she do?

  She could do something besides just stand there.

  He cleared his throat. “Have you decided yet?”

  She turned to him, and he smiled.

  “Would you shoot me, Rae?”

  “Aren’t you going to shoot me?”

  He frowned and looked away. “I would never have hurt you.”

  If you hadn’t left.

  She set the glass on the table in front of him and took her seat.

  With his free hand, he popped the pills in his mouth, then swallowed them with a sip of water. He sipped more water before he set the glass back on the table.

  He looked so weary, she feared he might drop the baby. “You want me to take Johnny?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “You’ve stolen enough time from me, don’t you think?”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “And his name isn’t Johnny. When did you come up with something so ridiculous?”