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THE FLIGHT FROM ACAPULCO to Mexico City took barely long enough to take off and land again. Marisa couldn't help thinking about the last time she'd been on a plane, when Vinnie had flown her to Montreal to celebrate the anniversary of their first date. That's where he'd proposed. She'd only been twenty at the time, probably too young to get married, but she'd been in love, and Vinnie had been the perfect man. Kind, generous, handsome. He'd lavished her with gifts the same way her father had.
In retrospect, he hadn't lavished her with his attention—also a lot like her father. He'd always been working, but she'd overlooked that. It would all be different when they married, or so she told herself. And maybe it would have been.
Vinnie's admission that he'd broken the law hadn't changed her decision to marry him. She'd agreed to stand by him, and at least he'd planned to do the right thing.
His murder had shattered her life. No, not exactly. His murder had shattered her heart. When she'd run, though, that had ended her life. With Vinnie, she'd been somebody's everything. And even after he'd died, Marisa had had Leslie, she'd had friends and coworkers and fellow students, people who liked her and cared about her. Marisa had mattered to those people.
After she'd had to escape, it was as if she'd disappeared. She had still existed, still taken up just as much space in the world, but people had stopped seeing her. They often noticed the pretty face—when she didn't hide well enough—but they didn't know her.
She remembered standing on a corner in Mexico City, surrounded by hoards of people and wanting to scream, "Look at me! I'm right here." Not that she would have, not with her fear of Charles and his goons. Even if she had, though, they wouldn't have looked, wouldn't have cared. She was one of millions and millions of people. She might as well have been a ghost.
When she'd started teaching at the orphanage, that had changed a little. Even then, though, she could imagine what would have happened if she'd vanished like so many people in this part of the world did. What would they say about her?
Remember that lady who taught English? She disappeared.
Oh, how sad. What's for lunch?
It hadn't been until Marisa found Ana, the baby who'd always been meant to be hers, that Marisa felt corporeal again. Suddenly, she wasn't just the English teacher. She was somebody's mother, and that somebody needed her like Marisa had never been needed before.
Now Ana was gone. Marisa could feel herself vanishing, even as she sat on the airplane and headed home. Without Ana, she would disappear. Without Ana, Marisa wouldn't matter at all. Without Ana, she wouldn't want to exist, anyway.
At the airport in Mexico City, Nate bought breakfast and two coffees. Rather than eat at the food court, they continued to the gate to wait for their next flight.
Seated in one of the many leather-like chairs scattered around the gate area, Marisa eyed the sack Nate had set on the seat between them. "I won't be able to eat. Not until I know where Ana is."
"Starving yourself won't help."
When Nate handed her the egg sandwich, her stomach growled. She ate the whole thing, then teared up for the thousandth time that morning. Had Ana eaten breakfast? Had she slept? Had they mistreated her?
Thirty minutes later, they were seated near the back of the jet, passengers still filing on and filling the rows in front of them. The engine humming below, the murmur of other passengers, and the slamming of overhead bins gave the scene a sense of normalcy.
As if anything was normal.
"Why Boston?" Marisa asked.
"I was surprised when you didn't ask me earlier."
"I thought about it, but..." She'd been too tired, too worried, to think about anything but what she was doing. She'd focused on getting her stuff, getting to the airport, and getting to Mexico City.
The truth was, she'd been relieved to turn over the decision-making to Nate. She'd had no idea what to do. She'd been muddling through life for eight years. And what a job she'd done, taking care of herself. Adopting a child who was now in harm's way because of her. If only she'd ignored her sister's email. If only she'd never looked at the computer that day. If only she'd stayed in her safe little village, none of this would have happened.
Her decisions had gotten her here. They'd gotten Ana and Leslie kidnapped. Marisa never wanted to make another decision as long as she lived.
But.
But she couldn't follow blindly. Ana was Marisa's responsibility, and all that had happened was her fault.
Now that they were about to take off, Marisa needed to know Nate's plan. "You said to do the next thing. So that's what I've been doing."
He shifted to face her. "There are still people looking for you, right?"
"Who do you think kidnapped them? The people who were looking for me obviously followed you guys. They must've found me."
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."
"Wait, what do you mean? Of course it was them."
"It could have been Charles and his people, but there were a lot of other people at G&K who might've had a bone to pick with you. It wasn't just his money that was stolen. The business account was emptied, too. Everybody lost their jobs. They couldn't even negotiate with the feds to keep their doors open. They were broke. They were in debt."
"That wasn't my fault."
"They think it was. Anyway, I'm not willing to take the chance that, while we're searching for Ana, somebody else doesn't try to hurt you."
"You think I care if something happens to me? As long as Ana's safe."
"And what happens to Ana if you're killed? Do you want her to grow up without a mother?"
"Leslie will take care of her."
"Assuming she survives."
"Don't say that."
"And you'd want that, to leave Ana in Leslie's hands? How would Ana feel to lose you? How did you feel when your mother died?"
"You don't..." She faltered. Her parents' deaths had been devastating, and she'd been an adult, theoretically.
So she knew what he was saying, but Marisa needed to be close to Ana. "Don't you think they're in New York?"
"They could be in Florida or California or Nebraska. They didn't say we'd make the trade in New York. And even if they are in the city, how do you propose we find them?"
"At least we could try. From Boston—"
"We're not going to Boston. I couldn't get a flight from Mexico City to Manchester without a wicked layover. We're going to New Hampshire."
"To your hometown?"
"We'll be safe, and nobody will know where to find us. We can figure out where to go from there."
"But..." She wanted to argue, because she felt in her bones that Ana was in New York. She wanted to be near her little girl. But Nate's argument was sound, and anyway, she couldn't think straight enough to plan.
"Go to sleep, Marisa." He stepped out of his seat, searched in the upper compartments, and came back with two pillows and two blankets. "Here." He handed her one of each. "We both need to sleep."
"I won't be able to."
"Please, try."
She stared out the window until the flight took off, trying not to think about Ana and unable to think about anything else. After they'd leveled off, she draped the blanket over her jeans and sweatshirt, which she'd changed into in the airport in Mexico City. She slid her braid over her shoulder and propped the pillow against the window. She closed her eyes. The trip to her village, this flight, the airports—it all felt surreal. Just two days earlier, she and Ana had hitched a ride to Chilpancingo. And now... How had she gotten here? Tears dripped down her face and off her chin.
"Hey." Nate touched her arm.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her. He lifted the armrest between their seats and patted his shoulder. "Try this. It's soft."
She shifted, leaned against Nate. The tears kept coming, but finally she drifted to sleep.
* * *
AT LOGAN INTERNATIONAL in Boston, Marisa reached for the duffel Nate had purchased for her, but he lifted it from the baggage carousel first and slung over his shoulder. He pulled his and Leslie's suitcases toward the doors.
"I can help with that,” she said.
He turned, his eyes kind. "I got it."
The area was packed with people, most speaking English. Any feeling of joy at being home was tempered by the circumstances.
She followed Nate, who still looked as good as he had that first day despite so little sleep. They'd both slept much of the nearly seven-hour flight.
The door to the street opened automatically. He let her go first and followed her to the sidewalk.
She shivered and folded her arms. "I'd forgotten how cold the air could be."
He just smiled and led her to a bench. "My friend will be here soon."
"I feel bad he had to drive so far."
"I didn't want to rent a car. We could be tracked that way. Bad enough they can track us to Boston through our flights. From here, we shouldn't be easy to find."
She looked around. "You think we're in danger?"
"The guys who kidnapped Ana have no reason to hurt us. They want their money. Theoretically, nobody else would know you were coming today. But it won't be long before they do. Information like that tends to spread."
A shiny black truck pulled to the curb in front of them. A man as built and nearly as handsome as Nate circled the front of it and approached them. He had dark brown hair and warm eyes.
Nate greeted him with a hug and a slap on the back. "I can't thank you enough, man."
The man stepped back. "I still owe you."
"I did nothing," Nate said. "Nothing good, anyway." He turned to her. "Marisa, this is Brady Thomas."
She stepped forward and shook his hand. "Thank you for coming."
"No problem." He slung Nate's suitcase in the bed of the truck. Nate followed with the rest. He said to Marisa, "You want yours back here or with you?"
"Back there is fine."
He set the duffel in the bed and opened the back door of the pickup. "Are you okay to sit back here? If you'd prefer—"
"It's fine." She climbed in the backseat and inhaled the new-car smell she hadn't experienced in forever.
"Nice truck," Nate said.
Brady pulled into traffic. "I needed something big enough for a car seat."
"How is Johnny?"
Marisa could see the man's smile in the rearview mirror. "He's perfect. Crawling all over the house now."
"Wow. Can't wait to see him. And Rae?"
"Feisty, as always."
Marisa said, "You two were school friends?"
They both laughed. "Actually," Brady said, "Nate is much older than I am."
Nate turned to face her. "Like three years. Brady tried to fill my shoes on the football team."
"Tried to? We went to the state championship."
"And lost, if I remember."
"Closer than you got."
Both men laughed, and Marisa sat forward, intrigued. "So you weren't high school friends?"
"Nope," Nate said. "I barely knew him, and then, for a while, I kind of hated him."
"Fair enough," Brady said. "I kind of hated you for a while there, too." He met Marisa's eyes again. "See, there's this woman."
"Ah," she said.
"Your wife now." Nate turned to her. "They were married the Saturday between Christmas and New Year's."
"You had a thing for her?" Marisa asked, ignoring a pang of jealousy. As if she had time for that.
"We were together a few years when she lived in New York, a million years ago. Before I met you."
"Ah. And you were angry at Brady for stealing her away?" Marisa asked.
"Nah," Nate said. "I was angry because the whole time I was with Reagan, I knew she still had a thing for Brady. I never could make her forget him."
Marisa couldn't imagine any woman choosing another man over Nate.
What was wrong with her? What kind of mother thinks of men when her daughter is missing? Missing, maybe dead. The kidnappers hadn't called back. She hadn't heard her daughter's voice in nearly twenty-four hours. Had Ana eaten? Had she slept? Were they being kind to her? Had they hurt her?
"Hey." Nate reached over the seat to grab her hand. "You okay? Where'd you go there?"
She just shook her head.
He pulled off his seatbelt and climbed into the back.
"What are you doing?" she said.
Brady angled away but didn't say a word as Nate settled in the seat beside her. "She's okay," he said.
"You don't know that."
"Until we know she's not, we're going to assume she is."
Tears filled her eyes. She'd cried more in the last day than she had since Vinnie died. "I don't know how to do that."
"They get nothing from you if she's not okay."
"You mean if they kill her, but they could hurt her. They could..." All the thoughts of what they could be doing to her daughter, to her sister, hit her.
Nate wrapped his arms around her and held her. "They have no reason to hurt her."
"They have no reason not to."
Brady cleared his throat. "From the little Nate told me on the phone, it sounds like these guys are after money. In my experience... Did he tell you I'm a cop?"
Nate had said that, though she'd forgotten. She nodded.
"Anyway," Brady continued, "in my experience, most people, even bad guys, don't hurt kids. Most people value children and care for them, even hardened criminals. So unless these guys are kidnappers and...something worse, your Ana is probably okay."
But maybe they were the something worse.
Brady stopped in traffic and turned back to her. "You know, they say fewer than five percent of men are..." He faltered, looked at Nate, and turned back at her. "Like little kids in an inappropriate way."
Perverts. Pedophiles. That's what he was trying to say.
"Less than five percent," Brady repeated. "Not bad odds."
Those weren't bad odds. Brady was right. But she wasn't in the habit of gambling with her daughter's life. Odds seemed irrelevant.
"And Leslie's with her." Nate squeezed her shoulder. "Leslie's taking care of her."
"What about Leslie, though?"
"Your sister's tough," Nate said. "She can handle it. And don't you remember the way she took to Ana, held her hand, took her shopping? Leslie won't let your daughter get hurt."
The traffic moved, so Brady turned to the front again. "We're going to find her, Marisa. We won't stop until we do."
Tears stung her eyes. She reached forward and touched Brady's shoulder. "Thank you." She turned to Nate. "And thank you. I can never thank you enough. You didn't ask for any of this."
"Neither did you," Nate said. "We have to play the hand we're dealt."
"You don't have to play it, though. You could walk away."
He shook his head. "You think I'd do that?"
"No. I know you wouldn't. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate your help."
She wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming. "I don't know what we're going to do."
"All we have to know is the next step."
"And what's that?"
He nodded toward Brady in the front seat. "We start with my friends."
* * *
MARISA YAWNED AS BRADY turned onto a narrow side road. She caught a glimpse of a lake between cabins and tall trees. One day, forever ago, Nate had told Marisa about the lake in his hometown. She never thought she'd see it. On this late afternoon in March, the oaks and maples were still bare of leaves, but the pines stood tall and colorful against the pale blue sky and reflected in the sparking water. The light dripped between the branches, reflected off the white birch bark, and was soaked into the trunks of oaks and maples and pines, nearly sucked dry before it reached the leafy bracken on the ground.
Her fingers itched for her paints. "It's amazing."
"I've been all over the world," Nate said, peering out the window on her side of the truck, "and I've never found anyplace as beautiful as this. You ever been to New Hampshire before?"
Marisa shook her head. "Upstate New York a few times."
Brady turned into the driveway of a little one-story wood-sided cabin and parked beside a blue truck. "Sam's not here yet, but I have the key."
"Isn't that your old truck?" Nate asked.
"Thought you'd need some wheels." They climbed out. Marisa stretched, tired of sitting, and joined the men at the back of Brady's pickup.
"And you didn't tell my father we were coming," Nate asked.
"No sense involving your folks. Only Sam and Rae know."
Marisa looked at Brady. "Rae is your wife, right?"
"Right. And Johnny is our son."
"Aren't you worried about getting your wife involved?" Marisa asked.
"I'm always worried about her," Brady said. "But if you knew Reagan, you'd know it's never a good idea to try to keep something from her." He opened the tailgate, reached in for Marisa's duffel, and gripped Leslie's suitcase.
Nate grabbed his own while Brady led the way up the steps to the cabin. "Anyway," Brady continued, "Reagan finds out everybody's secrets. And I'd hate to think what she'd do to me if she discovered Nate needed our help and I hadn't told her." He shuddered, and Marisa smiled.
"If you say so. But I'd rather keep your family as far from my troubles as possible."
Nate nodded for her to follow Brady. "They'll be fine. Rae can take care of herself."
Marisa followed Brady up the three steps to the front porch. It was beautiful outside, and she wanted to stay out and enjoy the view. The chilly temperatures changed her mind.
Inside the door of the cabin, Marisa stalled. The word cabin should never be used to describe this place, not with its gleaming hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling stacked stone fireplace. The couch and chairs looked both chic and comfortable. Across the great room stood a narrow island that separated the living room from the small kitchen. It had granite countertops, and three barstools had been pushed beneath it. The kitchen was furnished with stainless appliances. On the far side of the cabin, a glass sliding door led to a deck, where a round table was surrounded by six chairs. Beyond the table, a dock jutted out from the deck and over the lake, so that it looked as if the cabin were built nearly on top of the glistening waters. The vista was beautiful. "Wow."
Nate cleared his throat.
"Oh, sorry." She stepped to the side so he could enter.
He entered and spoke to Brady. "Two bedrooms?"
Brady pointed to the two doors on Marisa's right. "The one in the back is the master. Has a bathroom in there. That's hers. The other one'll do for you."
Marisa took her duffel from Brady and went into the master. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been someplace this nice. A tall, king-sized four-poster bed took up the bulk of the space. There were nightstands on either side, a bureau at the end of the bed, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.
Marisa set her bag down and crossed to the bathroom. More granite and pretty tile. And a huge soaking tub. Ana would love it.
Ana.
She squeezed her eyes against the threat of tears and returned to the great room, where she joined Brady and Nate, who were leaning against the granite counter.
"Sam and Rae will be here any minute," Brady said. "You need something to eat? Sam said there would be some basics in the fridge." He circled into the bar and opened the refrigerator.
"I'm not hungry," Marisa said.
Nate touched her elbow. "Maybe you should try. You haven't eaten since Mexico City."
"I ate the peanuts on the plane." She looked at Brady. "I would love a cup of coffee."
"Okay." He pushed a button on a weird, black appliance she didn't recognize and slid a rack of little plastic things across the counter. "What kind?"
She eyed the rack and the appliance, which seemed to be steaming or something. "What in the world?"
"Uh..." Brady looked from Marisa to Nate, who laughed.
"She's been out of the country for a while." Nate turned to Marisa. "Ever heard of a Keurig?"
"No. Wait, maybe. I think I've seen a picture online. I never really looked to see what it did."
"It's a coffee maker that makes one cup at a time," Nate said. "They're pretty cool." He spun the rack. "Pick one."
Marisa read all the different choices. Regular, decaf, mocha, vanilla.
She selected one. "What does Christmas coffee taste like?"
Nate looked at it. "Oh, I've had that. It's really good. It tasted like, well, coffee. If you don't like it, we can get you another one."
She turned back to Brady. "You're sure it's okay? Your friend won't mind?"
He took the coffee from her and put it in the machine. He pushed a button, and a minute later, the coffee was brewing. When he handed her the full cup, she said, "I want one of those."
"We'll see what we can do," Nate said.
She shook her head. "No. That would definitely blow a fuse. The power in my house is not very reliable."
But maybe she wouldn't be going back to Mexico, not to live, anyway. Maybe she and Ana...
She couldn't think about the future. She lifted her gaze to Brady. "Sugar?"
"Right." He searched the cabinets and returned with a little glass cup filled with various types of sweetener packets. She chose sugar, poured it in the cup, and stirred with a spoon Brady handed her. She'd become accustomed to drinking coffee black in Mexico, but it was much better sweet. And Nate was right. Although there was nothing particularly Christmassy about it, the flavor was delicious.
Just imagine. Twenty different varieties of coffee in your own house. The luxury.
She looked back at the rack. "It even has hot chocolate. Ana's never had that. She would love it. Anything sweet..." Her words trailed off.
Nate wrapped his arm around her. He'd been doing that a lot, and it felt more and more comfortable every time. She should probably pull away. She'd have to be careful not to let it progress. She leaned into him and sipped her coffee.
Someone knocked on the front door. Nate crossed the room, opened the door a crack, then opened it all the way.
A woman stepped inside and set a bag on the floor. She was much shorter than Nate and had long, light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a business suit that showed off her curves, the kind of curves Marisa had always envied. Nate pulled her into a long hug and said something Marisa couldn't hear.
Behind her, another woman stepped in. She was taller than the first and had reddish-blond, shoulder-length hair. She wore jeans and a light green sweater and carried a giant patterned purse. When Nate had finished hugging the first woman, he turned to the second and hugged her. After a few seconds, Brady said, "Okay, that's enough."
Everybody laughed, and Nate led the two women across the room. "Marisa, I want you to meet my good friends. He indicated the redhead and said, "This is Rae Thomas."
Marisa stepped forward and held out her hand, but the woman passed right by her outstretched hand and hugged her. "I'm glad to meet you, but I'm very sorry for what you're going through."
Marisa felt the tears again. She blinked them back as Reagan stepped away and said, "For a couple of hours, I thought I might lose my son. I cannot imagine what you're feeling right now."
Marisa didn't know what to say and probably couldn't have formed words anyway. She nodded. The other woman stepped forward and hugged her, too.
Behind her, Nate said, "And that's Samantha Messenger."
"I'm praying like crazy," Samantha whispered in her ear.
Marisa sniffed. "Thank you." They stepped apart. "Thank you for letting us stay here."
Sam flipped her hand. "It's nothing."
Marisa let out a short laugh that sounded as much like a sob. "I thought you were a man."
The woman's eyebrows lifted, and Marisa sniffed and wiped her eyes. "They kept calling you Sam. I just assumed..."
Sam turned to Brady and Nate and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you two?"
Nate said, "Sorry. I didn't think."
Rae lifted the bag Sam had left by the door. "Enough chit-chat. We have a little girl to find. Let's get to work."
* * *
THE FIVE OF THEM SAT at the round table. Sam pulled out a laptop, and Rae slid a folder and pen from her huge purse.
Brady nodded to Nate. "Why don't you give us the background information?"
"We already know about the mortgage fraud." Reagan nodded to Nate. "We downloaded your old stories and read a few others, so we're caught up on what Gray & Kinnison did. Tell us what happened to bring it all to light."
Nate nodded to Marisa.
"Vinnie told me about the fraud," she started. "He said—"
"Wait." Rae opened her file and flipped through it. "Vinnie is Vincent Depalo, your boyfriend. Right?"
"Fiancé," Marisa said. "Some FBI agent had cornered him and told him they were investigating G&K for fraud. He suggested Vinnie cooperate with the investigation or go down with the rest of them."
"Why him?" Brady asked.
Marisa shrugged. "Maybe because he'd made the least money off of it. I mean, he was making plenty, but not like the guys on top."
"And he was the newest person to get involved," Nate added. "And the youngest. Plus, the FBI wanted to bring down the guys on the top. They didn't care about small potatoes like Vincent Depalo." He turned to Marisa. "Not that he wasn't—"
"I know what you mean." She reached out like she might touch his hand, then pulled it back. "You're probably right."
Brady focused on her. "Do you know the name of the agent?"
"Garrison Kopp."
"His last name is Cop?" Rae raised her eyebrows.
Marisa nodded. "But it's K-O-P-P."
Rae smiled. "Appropriate."
Brady glanced at Rae while she wrote something on her note pad. He turned back to Marisa. "I'm guessing this agent tells Vinnie to cooperate, or he's going to bring him down, too."
"Yeah." Marisa could still remember the fear in Vinnie's eyes when he'd relayed the information to her. And the shame. She'd been horrified to discover her fiancé was a crook. She'd told him that if he didn't come clean and straighten up, they were finished.
Not that the threat had been necessary. Vinnie had known what he had to do. He was a young man, not even thirty. Why spend his life as a felon?
"Okay," Brady said. "Then what happened?"
"Vinnie contacted Kopp, and they set up a meeting for a week later. But a few days after that, Vinnie was beaten to death." For the first time, those words barely raised any emotion in her. Right now, all she cared about was getting Ana and Leslie back.
"I'm sorry," Brady said. "That must have been terrible."
"I was convinced Charles and his men had done it to keep him quiet. Vinnie thought he was being followed and even talked about running away. He was going to try to meet Kopp earlier, but before Vinnie could work it out, he was killed."
Reagan was taking notes but looked up and gave her an encouraging nod.
Brady leaned forward. "The question is, who told Charles Gray about the meet?"
Marisa opened her mouth, closed it again.
"What?" Nate said.
"I can't be sure, but..."
Nate turned to face her, leaned forward, and said very quietly, "You need to tell us everything, Marisa. Now is not the time to hold back."
She nodded. Swallowed. Said, "I know. You're right. It's just... I'm not sure."
Nate waited.
"Leslie." There, she'd said it. She'd never had the courage to confront her sister all those years ago, and she would never have told the FBI her suspicions, but now, with both Leslie and Ana kidnapped, the secret no longer seemed to matter.
Nate sat back, looked at the table. "Leslie." He met her eyes again. "I can see why you didn't say anything. You probably should have, but—"
"Who's Leslie?" Brady asked.
"My sister."
"Oh." Rae made a note. "She's the one who was taken with Ana?"
"Yeah." Marisa turned to Nate. "If it was her, I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."
"Of course." Nate's words didn't match his expression, though. His eyes had narrowed, his mouth pinched shut like he was working to keep his thoughts inside.
"Wait," Rae said. "Explain how that happened."
Marisa explained Leslie's business and the cleaning contract for G&K, how she'd known Charles Gray and Vinnie and a lot of the guys up there.
"The night Vinnie confessed it all to me, Leslie had been out. But at some point while we were talking, she came home. I never knew when, never knew what she'd heard. But I always found it odd that I hadn't heard her come in. Later, she told me we looked like we were in a serious conversation and she didn't want to interrupt. I believed her, of course. Why wouldn't I? But when it all happened, and that FBI agent kept asking me who I'd told... I wondered."
"Why didn't you tell him?" Brady asked.
She shrugged. "I didn't know for sure. And even if Leslie had heard, why would she tell Charles or any of them anything?"
Sam spoke for the first time since they'd sat. "But now, you think maybe your sister told your fiancé's boss what she overheard? Why would she do that?"
Marisa sighed. "I can only guess. She liked Vinnie okay, but she didn't want me to marry him. I was really young, and we only had each other at that point, and I think she was jealous. And it didn't matter how much money Vinnie made, Leslie thought I could do better."
Rae looked up from her notebook. "You think maybe your sister told Charles what was going on to... What? Break you two up?"
Marisa shrugged. "It's just a theory. Maybe somebody else did it."
"Did Vinnie tell anybody?" Brady asked.
"No. He was adamant that neither of us could tell. He was terrified Charles would find out before he had a chance to meet with the FBI guy."
"If you didn't tell, and Vinnie didn't, then either the leak came from the FBI"—Brady's expression told them what he thought of that theory—"or your sister told someone."
Sam reached across the table and laid her hand on Marisa's. "If she did it, I'm sure she had your best interests at heart. And I know you don't wish her ill."
Marisa teared up again and nodded.
"Okay," Brady said. "Go on."
"And then Vinnie was murdered." Silence settled on the room at the word. She let a beat pass. "Then I went to Nate."
Brady glanced at Nate. "Why him?"
"He used to ride the same bus as I did. I recognized him from his picture in the paper."
"At the Times?" Brady asked.
Nate shook his head. "I was working in Queens. I wrote a column occasionally on the financial market, and they ran my photo above the column."
"Oh." Brady turned back to Marisa. "You picked him because you recognized him."
"And because of the finance column. Seemed he'd understand what G&K was up to. I sat next to him on the bus the next day and told him I had a story, but I needed help. I gave him the gist of it, and he put me up in a hotel. He hid me. I thought they would try to kill me, since they killed Vinnie."
"I still think they might have," Nate said.
"I told him the story. He protected me while I tried to figure out what to do next. He encouraged me to call the FBI and tell Kopp what I knew about Vinnie's murder. I met with Kopp and told him everything. Kopp was working on getting me in witness protection. The next morning, the FBI stormed the G&K offices."
"That fast?" Brady asked.
"Remember," Nate said, "they'd already been working on bringing G&K down. They just needed proof. Marisa knew just enough to convince Kopp he'd find it in the files. And Kopp didn't want to lose the opportunity."
Rae looked up from her notes. "But Charles knew they were after him. Why didn't he hide the evidence?"
"It's not that simple," Nate said. "We're talking about years of documents that probably looked fine at a glance, but under the FBI's microscope? I'm sure Charles was working on it, but remember, all this happened very quickly. And Charles thought he'd bought himself some time by having Vinnie killed."
"By the time the FBI got there," Marisa said, "both Charles's personal account and the company's operating account had been emptied."
"How much money?" Rae asked.
Marisa looked at Nate, and he shrugged.
"I never learned the actual numbers, but the man who took Ana demanded two million."
Brady looked at Marisa. "And you didn't take it?"
Familiar rage rose in her chest. "I didn't care about their money. I wanted justice for Vinnie's murder. Besides, even if I'd wanted to, it's not like they kept the account codes posted on the wall. How could I have?"
"Okay."
The rage turned to confusion. She studied Brady. "You believe me, just like that?"
"If you had the money, you'd give it to the kidnappers, right? To get your daughter back?"
“Of course! I'd do anything to get her back."
"Besides, Nate told me about your house. That's not the way someone with that much money would choose to live."
She turned to Nate with a raised eyebrow.
He lifted both hands in surrender. "I just wanted Brady to know you didn't steal the money."
"He said it was small and sparse," Brady clarified. "Nothing bad."
"It is those things."
"Okay," Brady said. "But like you say, they didn't keep the account numbers and passwords just lying around. So how do they think you got access?"
"I have no idea." Marisa looked at Nate. "Do you?"
"I'm not sure they know how. Only that, as far as they knew, Marisa was the only one who knew the feds were on to them. I know they figured Vinnie's murder was her motive."
"But they must have a theory about how," Brady said.
"They didn't share it with me," Nate said.
Brady stared off, shook his head slightly, and frowned. Finally, he focused on Marisa again. "What else?"
She couldn't think of anything to add.
"That's all we know," Nate said. "After that, Marisa went from the FBI's best witness to their number one suspect."
"Charles's, too." Marisa still couldn't believe how it had all backfired. "Even my own sister doesn't believe me."
Nate pulled her hand into his and held it on his knee. "I knew Marisa hadn't stolen it."
"How?" Brady asked.
"I just knew. I'd gotten to know her, and I couldn't believe that of her. And I was right."
"But it didn't matter, because they all thought I had. Charles, Kopp—they were all after me. I thought if I exposed myself to the FBI to try to clear my name, Charles would find me and have me killed."
"Or worse. Whatever it took to get his money back." Nate squeezed her hand. "The way Vinnie was killed...the man was vicious."
"You helped her escape?" Brady clarified.
Nate sat up straighter. "You have a problem with that?"
Brady glanced at his wife, whose eyebrows rose, before focusing on Nate again. "I wish more people trusted the authorities. It stands to reason that whoever stole the money knew the FBI was on to them. Who knew?"
"Just Nate and I," Marisa said.
"And maybe Leslie," Nate added. "And Charles."
"Well, yeah," Rae said, "but Charles wouldn't steal his own money,"
"Why not?" Nate looked at Rae. "He's in prison, but for all we know, all that money is in some offshore account, just collecting interest."
Brady shook his head. "But we don't think Charles knew the FBI was coming that night. Or else he'd have been destroying evidence."
"Maybe he knew the jig was up." Rae tapped her pen on her yellow pad. "Maybe he knew he was going to prison, so he hid the money."
Brady conceded that with a nod. "Possible. Put him on the list."
Rae wrote on her tablet.
"Who else?" Brady asked.
"As far as I know," Marisa said, "nobody else."
"But if Leslie knew, she could have told someone," Nate said. "Charles got the hit man involved, which proves he knew. Maybe he told someone else at the company. Even Kopp—"
"You think the FBI agent did it?" Brady's eyebrows rose.
Rae chuckled. "Because cops are never bad."
He glanced at his wife. "It's not usually the cop, despite what you see on TV."
"We're just brainstorming here, Brady."
He nodded once. "Fine. Put him on the list."
"Already did." Rae winked at Marisa. "We'll need the names of the rest of G&K's employees."
"On it," Sam said, tapping away on her keyboard.
Brady looked at Nate. "Anyone else?"
Nate looked at Marisa. She shook her head, a little shocked at the turn of events. Nate had told her his friends would help. She didn't know what she'd expected, but not this. "I can't think of anyone else."
They were silent, digesting what they knew so far. After a minute, Brady said, "Well, despite the fact that he's a"—he cleared his throat and glanced at this wife—"suspect, I think our next step is to talk to Agent Kopp."
"Agreed," Rae said.
Nate looked at Marisa. "What do you think?"
Were they crazy? "He'll throw me in jail."
Nate squeezed her hand. "We don't have to tell him where you are. We just want to have a conversation with him. Surely he has more information than we have."
"But what if he finds me?" She looked from Nate to Brady. "I'm a fugitive."
"We'll take it one step at a time. First, we have to find him."
"I got him."
They all looked at Sam.
"Already?" Rae said.
She looked up from her screen. "It's not like Kopp is a common name."
A moment of stunned silence was followed by Brady's chuckle. "Why do I ever doubt you?"
"Because you're a slow learner," Sam quipped.
His jaw dropped, and he covered his chest with his hand. "Me? I'm like...like..." He leaned toward his wife and said, "Quick. Think of somebody smart."
Marisa nearly giggled.
Rae smacked his arm and turned to Sam. "Is Agent Kopp still working in New York City?"
"He retired two years ago."
"Retired?" Marisa said. "He was like thirty."
Sam click-clicked. "According to this, he's forty-two. He was commissioned in the Air Force at twenty-two, so he had twenty years in."
Nate leaned sideways to look at her screen. "How in the world do you do that?"
She lifted her shoulder in a no-big-deal shrug. "I did a little digging. He lives on Long Island. I have a phone number for him."
"His phone number isn't unlisted?" Nate said.
"It is," she said.
"But how—?"
"Don't bother asking," Brady said. "She won't tell."
Sam ripped a piece of paper from Rae's notebook. "You'd probably throw me in jail."
"Did you do something illegal?"
"Can I plead the fifth?"
"That's enough." Rae looked at Marisa. "I'm sorry. They've been like this since third grade."
This time, Marisa did giggle. The sound seemed foreign and wrong and she immediately squelched it.
Sam wrote something on the paper. "Here's the number. Who's making the call?"
"Brady should do it," Rae suggested. "He could probably get the most information, being a cop."
"Actually, I'd rather not. Since we're harboring a fugitive here, I think I need to step out." He looked at Marisa. "I believe you, but I am still a cop. I can only go so far."
"I understand." Marisa swallowed a lump of emotion. "I appreciate what you've done so far." She looked around at the rest of them. "All of you. I can never repay you."
Rae reached past Sam and touched Nate's elbow. "You're Nate's friend. And we'd do anything for him."
Marisa looked just in time to see his cheeks turn pink. "I didn't do anything. I nearly..." He looked at Marisa, then at the table. "I didn't do anything."
Rae squeezed his forearm. "You did, and I'm forever grateful."
Marisa was definitely missing something. She'd ask Nate about that later.
"Okay." Rae pulled her hand back. "I can call the guy."
"I'll do it." Nate snatched the paper from Sam's fingers. "We've met before. He'll talk to me."