Gwen struggled with the key, her arms loaded with groceries. The apartment was on the third floor, a walk-up, and the last thing she’d wanted to do was make two trips. The paper bags in her right arm tilted precariously, and she sighed and set all of them down on the floor to properly work the lock. The moment she slid the key in, Annie opened the door for her, looking relieved.
“You were gone a long time.”
“Yeah, well, I should have known better than to go out during the after-work rush. The traffic was crazy, and the store was a madhouse.”
Annie bent down to grab half of the groceries. “Did anybody say anything about the car when you left it? What about the store? Did anyone recognize you?”
“No one gave me a second glance. I told you—it’ll be fine.”
They’d made it to Denver yesterday evening and had to sit through rush-hour traffic that stretched almost the entire distance from Colorado Springs. Both of them had been so tired when they reached the apartment, they’d gone straight to bed. Annie had woken her up early this morning, scared from a nightmare and still anxious, and when they’d finally fallen back to sleep, they’d slept until almost noon. They spent the early afternoon cleaning weeks of dust off the furniture and floors, and laundered the towels and sheets. Gwen had gone out to dump the car in a paid lot a few miles away, called the car dealer from a pay phone, and caught the bus back to this part of town to pick up groceries. Her errands had taken almost two hours.
The apartment was in Denver’s Capitol Hill, a mixed socio-economic neighborhood of art students and young adults. This particular corner of Capitol Hill was considered one of the “gayborhoods” of Denver, but that was entirely by chance. As she’d told Annie, the place wasn’t really hers. It belonged to her employer and functioned as a cheap alternative for a long-term hotel when one of the agents needed to stay in the city. The super kept the keys and gave them to anyone with an employee ID, no questions asked. He wouldn’t report her to her boss—she’d stayed here before for jobs, no problem. He wasn’t likely to think twice about her. Gwen often volunteered for jobs in Denver and had spent a lot of time in this apartment, and in Denver, in general.
“So what did you get?” Annie asked, peeking into one of the bags.
“Food. Real food. None of that garbage we’ve been eating for the last two days.”
Annie pulled out a bundle of kale and frowned. “I knew I should have gone with you.”
Gwen laughed and pointed at a bag on the counter. “Don’t worry—I got you some of the junk food you requested, too. And three bottles of Coke.” She shuddered. “How anyone can drink that stuff is beyond me.”
Annie’s eyes lit up, and she tore into a bag of cheese puffs, putting one in her mouth with clear pleasure. She was wearing one of Gwen’s shirts, and the sleeves were rolled up on her arms. Gwen wasn’t tall, by any means—slightly above average—but they had similar builds. If anything, Gwen was a little thinner. Still, as with Tom’s coat, Annie looked ridiculous in her shirt. It was also the last of the spares Gwen kept in her travel bag. At some point, they’d need to shop for clothes again.
“Is anything better than a cheese puff?” Annie asked.
“I can think of a thousand.”
Annie threw one at her, and Gwen laughed, dodging it. “Say—why don’t you sit down and watch some TV? I’ll make dinner.”
Annie was surprised. “You can cook?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “I actually trained as a chef, before…”
“Before stealing cars for a living?”
“Basically.”
“How did you get into it? Being a PI?”
“I was between jobs. It happens, when you’re first working in kitchens. Restaurants come and go. I’m also kind of…temperamental, and some of my bosses didn’t like me. I stormed out a few times and got in couple of fights. After my culinary training, I had like ten jobs in two years. I was being stupid. I quit one job without notice, only to have my new one lay me off two weeks later. Anyway, I had a bad reputation, so I wasn’t getting anything, even part time, after that.”
She paused, pulling out a bottle of chilled sparkling wine. She held it up for Annie, who nodded eagerly. She opened it and poured them two tall glasses in mismatched tumblers. She and Annie clinked glasses, and she took a small sip. The wine was soft and slightly tart, the bubbles kissing their way across her tongue.
“Ooh, that’s good. What was I saying?”
Annie had downed her entire glass, and Gwen filled it for her again.
“You got laid off, and you couldn’t get work.”
“Right. So anyway, my friend Reggie had been doing some computer stuff for my current employer and was making okay money at it. He got me an interview, and pretty soon I had some cool gigs, got to travel, all sorts of things. I thought it’d be temporary—long enough for a few restaurants to forget my name. I did some footwork for a local branch of my company at first—stakeouts on cheating wives and the like. Eventually, I studied for the investigator’s exam and passed, and started getting different kinds of work here and out of town.”
“How long have you been doing it?”
Gwen considered for a moment and then shook her head. “Jesus. It’s been twelve years. Christ.”
“You don’t sound like you like it much.”
“Some parts are fine. I like the travel best—seeing new things, leaving before I’m sick of a place.” She shrugged. “But other parts get really old. And sometimes things screw up, and it’s not my fault, but I get blamed.”
“Did that happen the other day? Back in Texas?”
Gwen laughed. “No. That one was my fault.” She grinned. “I punched our client in the face.”
Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Gwen nodded. “Really. He pushed my buttons one too many times. I think I broke his nose, but I didn’t stick around to check. I just walked out the door.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’m employed anymore. That client was kind of a big deal—lots of money involved, lots of our agents. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue.”
“You haven’t called in to the office?”
“No. No reason to. I know what my boss will say, and he can kiss my ass. I told him that client was a shithead, wasn’t worth all the hassle, but he told me to put up with it. And I did—for almost six months. But like I said, the client went too far one too many times.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. I was kind of ready to move on. Have been, for a while.”
Annie watched her prepare the salmon and asparagus, her eyes tracking Gwen around the tiny but functional galley-style kitchen. After the fish and vegetables were baking in the oven, Gwen took out the fresh loaf of bread she’d bought from her favorite local baker and sliced it in half, lengthwise, before spreading a liberal amount of garlic and butter on it. She set a timer and gestured for Annie to follow her into the little living room. A love seat and a single armchair were all that could fit in the small space. They sat together, and Gwen set the bottle of wine on the little coffee table for refills.
“In twenty minutes, I’ll put the bread in, and we can eat in like thirty.”
“Smells heavenly, already.”
“Better than cheese puffs?”
Annie grinned. “Yes—better. Barely.”
The apartment was a small, one-bedroom in an old, gorgeous building. The neighborhood hadn’t entirely gentrified, so in a building like this, the renters were pretty mixed. Gwen had passed a young, attractive straight couple on the stairs wearing matching North Face jackets and had then seen several punk and goth twenty-somethings piling into their studio apartment on the next floor. The building had been built in the 1920s, so the construction was solid, the walls thick and soundproof, which was generally more than you could ask for in an older apartment. Another benefit was the large windows, which, on this summer evening, lit the apartment with a warm, yellow glow. Annie’s hair shone like white, spun gold, shimmering on her shoulders, and Gwen had to fight the urge to run her fingers through it.
Annie’s eyes were a soft, hazy green, and her lips curled in a gentle smile. “What are you staring at?”
Gwen smiled back. “You. You’re gorgeous.”
Annie pushed her arm. “You’re not so bad yourself, lady.”
“Even like this?” Gwen gestured vaguely at her ratty clothes and hair.
Annie’s smile widened. “I like it. Kind of punk or something.”
They both turned to the window, the sun finally starting to set outside. The view wasn’t great—only the building next door, but the windows over there reflected the soft, golden pink of the sky.
“You seem to know your way around the city,” Annie said.
“Spent a lot of time here. I actually went to college nearby. I also did culinary school a few blocks from here.”
“That’s right. I forgot you said you were from Colorado.”
“Yes, but up north. A little town called Berthoud.”
“Do you visit there a lot?”
Gwen shook her head. “Almost never. I see my brother once or twice a year, but he lives in Phoenix now, so I usually see him there.”
“Your parents?”
“We don’t talk.”
“Are they…” Annie frowned. “I mean, did they grow up there?”
Gwen almost laughed. She knew this was Annie’s way of asking where they were from and, by extension, Gwen herself. People always wanted to know. Gwen was actually surprised she’d waited so long to ask.
“My dad’s Korean, first generation. My mom’s Guatemalan. They met in school in California and moved to Colorado for my dad’s job.”
“Oh.”
Annie didn’t push it further, and Gwen didn’t offer more details, relieved to drop the subject. She hated talking about her family. But then she remembered that Annie hadn’t mentioned her parents, either.
They drank their wine in relative silence, discussing the sunset, the food, nothing very serious or important. The timer went off, Gwen got up to put in the bread, and when she rejoined her in the living room, Annie’s soft, relaxed expression was gone. She seemed tense again, anxious.
“Hey,” Gwen said, sitting down. She squeezed Annie’s knee. “Don’t think about it for a little while. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves tonight. We’ve earned it after the last two days.”
Annie shook her head. “I can’t. I wish I could. I keep thinking about my sister, all alone in that awful place.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t stand the thought of her in there.”
Gwen nodded, not wanting to say something stupid or pretend everything would be all right. It probably wouldn’t, and there was no point saying so.
“What was your plan? I mean, if you got the money?”
Annie straightened up, eyes suddenly determined. “To bust her out of there.”
“You can do that?”
She shook her head. “No—I can’t, but Tom can. Like I told you, he has power of attorney. She’s like a little sister to him, too. We arranged the legal stuff right before I was arrested.”
The timer went off again, and they got up. Gwen did the last of the prep work for the salad as the fish rested for a few minutes, and Annie set the table. For the first time in days, Gwen was actually excited to eat. She refilled their glasses with the last of the bottle, and they both dug in. Despite being “good” food, Annie ate with as much relish and gusto as she had with all the crap they’d consumed in diners and fast-food joints. As usual, Gwen finished first, Annie moving on to seconds and thirds. Considering that she’d seen this bottomless appetite before with the kind of food they’d had on the road, it wasn’t much of a compliment to her cooking, but she enjoyed watching her nonetheless. She suspected she would always enjoy watching Annie eat.
They sat there for a while, digesting and finishing their wine, and Gwen watched as Annie’s face gradually reverted to that panicked, anxious edge again. Thinking and talking about her sister was clearly upsetting her, but she needed to do it, no matter how much it upset her. Maybe thinking of a new plan would help her. They had to do something, anyway.
“You said earlier that Tom can get your sister out of the hospital. Does that mean she can leave at any time?”
Annie sighed. “Not exactly. The state requires that she have full-time care until she can demonstrate basic competency, which she’s never been able to do. She’s been reckless and a danger to herself and others. She’s not violent, but she’s been known to wander out of the house and walk into traffic, climb onto tall buildings. She’s gone swimming in public fountains, that kind of thing. She won’t take her medication unless someone’s there to give it to her.” She lifted her hands. “Basically, if Tom can show he’s hired a qualified caregiver, or lined up another place for her to go, he can sign her out, but not before.”
“Doesn’t she qualify for disability of some kind? Or a state funding?”
“Yes, but it’s not enough money. Tom and I took turns with her for a while—him during the day, me at night, but it wasn’t working very well. She still got out of the house a couple of times. She needs a professional. We had a guy coming for a while, but he only came for a few hours twice a week. I couldn’t work full-time and was falling behind on rent and bills. Then she got into trouble again, and I was talked into putting her in the hospital. It was supposed to be temporary, while I lined up something else, but she’s been in and out of there ever since.”
“She gets out sometimes?”
“Hardly anyone is permanently institutionalized anymore. She’s been released to an adult community program a few times—it’s kind of like a halfway house for addicts and the mentally ill—but it almost never lasts for long. She acts up or does something to herself and goes right back into the hospital. Recently, it seemed like she might actually be able to stay there, move on to the next step. She was in their program for almost three months, which is really long for her. She was doing better, taking her meds, actually making plans. Tom visits a lot, and he said it was like talking to her when she was younger, before…Anyway, she was volunteering some afternoons at the animal shelter and thinking about getting a job there. Then something happened. Tom didn’t give me any details, but she got sent back to the hospital two months ago.”
Annie had tears at the corners of her eyes, and Gwen squeezed her hand. “It sounds terrible for all of you.”
Annie wiped at her eyes. “It is. Tom says she’s doing better, that this is just a temporary setback, but I don’t know whether to believe him. It’s not like I can check.”
“Why not?”
Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “Because they know who I am! I can’t call, especially now.”
Gwen leaned onto her forearms. “Of course you can, Annie. You’re her sister, for God’s sake. They have to give you information if you ask for it. Maybe you can even talk to her.”
Annie shook her head. “No. I won’t call. Not until I’ve figured this out.”
Gwen didn’t push it, but she might know someone who could check on her sister for them discreetly. She would wait to suggest it, though, until Annie brought her up again. She’d make some phone calls in the meantime.
They moved back to the living room, Gwen grabbing a second bottle of wine. She didn’t particularly want the two of them to get drunk, but Annie was already looking a little more relaxed, and that wasn’t a bad thing for one night. The sunset had almost faded from the sky, but the living room was relatively bright from the last of the day and the streetlights outside. The people in the apartment in the building across the alley from them were having a party, and that apartment was so brightly lit, the two of them could watch the entire thing. Everyone seemed impossibly young—too young to be drinking and smoking, but they were obviously enjoying themselves. The faint sound of music leaked through the two sets of windows, but Gwen liked to hear it. She’d been to lots of parties like that when she was their age and didn’t begrudge anyone some innocent fun.
“We have to get that money,” Annie suddenly said.
Gwen turned to her, surprised. In the dim light of the living room, Annie’s face was cast in shadow, her angry expression heightened by the lack of light. She seemed murderous, deadly.
“Tell me about these people, Annie—the ones that screwed you. And use names, for Christ’s sake. It’s confusing enough as it is.”
Annie turned, regarding her silently for a long time as if making up her mind about something. “I’m still not sure you should get involved in this. You have a chance to get out, if you do it now. I don’t want you to get in trouble like I am. If you know too much, you’ll be in more danger.”
Gwen kissed her. “Stop saying that. I’m in this with you, Annie.”
Again, Annie stared at her, clearly troubled. She was biting and twisting her lips anxiously. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, Gwen. But please don’t hate me when we get caught. I-I couldn’t stand that.”
“I won’t. Now spill.”
Annie looked away again, watching the party. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper, and Gwen had to lean closer to hear her.
“It all started when I met Susan. She was the woman I called from the motel the other day. We met through a mutual acquaintance. I had the idea for the fraud long before I met her. I knew how to make the phony loans, and I knew how to fake the recipients. I’d convinced myself that it was a victimless crime—the insurance would cover it. The problem was moving the money. I only knew how to move it legally. Basically, I could get the money, but then it could be traced. Someone would catch on in only a month or two, so unless I could hide it somehow, there was no real point. I thought about it a lot, but I didn’t really try to do anything real or concrete. Not until I met Susan.”
“How did you meet?”
“Through a mutual friend of a friend. It was stupid, really. I was at a friend’s birthday party, and people were talking about their crappy jobs. My friend’s husband, Greg, mentioned that he knew how to break into his workplace without getting caught. He was drunk, so he had an excuse. I wasn’t—I think I was showing off. I mentioned that I could defraud the bank. I didn’t realize someone would take me seriously.”
She met Gwen’s eyes. “I don’t know if I ever really meant to try, Gwen. Do you understand? I don’t think I would have gone through with it—it was a kind of fantasy, you know? A daydream. I liked pretending I could get away with it—picturing me and my sister on a beach somewhere, drinking mai tais and daiquiris and swimming with dolphins—kid crap like that. Anyway, I realized I couldn’t move the money, so it wasn’t even a realistic fantasy.”
“I get it. Really, I do.”
Annie frowned at her before nodding. “The morning after the party, Susan called me. She said that her friend Bill had overheard something, and she wanted to talk to me. She was vague, but I understood what she meant without going into detail. We met that same day, and she spelled it out for me. She knew how to hide the money and not get caught.”
She was quiet, frowning. “Even then, I could have said no. I was desperate for the money, but most of me understood that we couldn’t get away with it. Even later, when I did the paperwork for the first phony loan, I knew I should call it all off. Susan was forcing me to approve way too much money. It was going to draw too much attention too quickly. Still, I went along with it and kept going along with it for weeks.”
“She must have been really persuasive.”
Annie flinched and nodded, and Gwen’s stomach dropped. “Oh—so it was like that, then?”
Annie looked at her, and even in the dim light, Gwen could see the tears sparkling in her eyes. “Yes. It was like that. I was a complete and utter idiot. She was stringing me along, but she gave me enough affection to doubt myself. Then she and Tom finally met. You saw him the other night—he doesn’t trust anyone. It’s funny, because if he likes you, he’s a big, tall teddy bear, but until then, he’s pretty cold. Tom didn’t know anything about her or the fraud, but he hated her immediately, and he never warmed up. At first I was pissed at him, but he wouldn’t change his mind. He kept telling me she was phony, no good. I finally started to realize how fucked up she was, and how deep she’d gotten me into this mess. I ended things between us long before I was caught, but the damage was already done. I’d stolen ten times as much money as I planned, and way too many people were involved. Even before the FBI showed, I was expecting them. Susan and Bill were smart enough to keep their names off any of the loans, so they were, of course, in the clear when all the shit hit the fan.”
“What was in it for them?”
“Half of everyone’s take.”
“Half! Jesus.”
Annie shrugged. “Like I said—stupid. All the people that posed for the phony loans were arrested at the same time I was, but Bill and Susan’s names were never brought up at trial. Susan made the same deal with everyone that went to prison—don’t rat, and she’d save their half of the money for them for when they got out. It was different for me, since I got so much time. That’s why she promised to break me out if I kept my mouth closed. My cut was also the biggest after hers and Bill’s.”
“How much money, total, did you steal?”
“Ten point five.”
“Wow. And those two have all of it now?”
Annie nodded. “Yes. Every cent.”
“They haven’t made any payouts? I mean, has anyone gotten out of prison yet?”
“No. The soonest is next year, from what I remember.”
“Do you know where they moved the money?”
Annie lifted her shoulders. “Only what I read in the papers. The FBI tracked it to Europe, then Asia, before they lost it, but I can guess. The Caymans would be my bet. That’s where I was going to put it if I could figure out how to cover my tracks on the way there.”
“Do you think that’s where they are now? Susan and Bill?”
Annie shook her head. “No. As far as I know, Susan’s still in Dallas—that’s where she was when I talked to her on the phone. She told me Bill was in Santa Fe.”
“Why there? What are those two places to them?”
“They own houses there.”
“They do?”
Annie nodded. “They’re married.”
“And you knew—”
“No. I didn’t. Not until after I broke up with her. I think she told me to hurt me, but actually it made me feel better about the whole thing. It made me see that she’d been conning me the whole time, that I was better off without her. I don’t even think she’s really attracted to women. She was playing me. She’s an asshole, and I fell for it.”
Gwen thought for a while, the room now so dark that Annie and the furniture in the room were only vague silhouettes. The party was still raging on across the way, the music now loud enough to hear the lyrics, and the young people over there were, on the whole, visibly intoxicated, stumbling against each other flirtatiously and falling down a lot.
“I think that’s the first step,” Gwen finally said.
“What?”
“Finding the money. We have to know where it is before we try to get it.”
Annie laughed. “And how the hell are we supposed to do that?”
Gwen flicked on one of the table lamps next to her, and they both winced against the dim light.
“Listen—you keep forgetting something, here.”
“What?”
“You still have two things on your side.” She held up her fingers. “One: Susan doesn’t know that you know she betrayed you. She might suspect it, especially as you haven’t called in since you talked to her in the motel, but she can’t be certain. Two: you still have some leverage on her. You can still spill the beans to the police.”
“But that’s just it—I could never prove it! That’s the main thing I keep coming back to, and part of the reason I never even tried. My lawyers kept trying to get me to fess up, to give names, but I knew nothing would come of it. They’re too good. And anyway, why would anyone even believe me?”
“But Bill and Susan couldn’t possibly be sure of that. You could talk at any time. And anyway, no one’s perfect. There has to be some kind of trail, somewhere. If we can find something, anything, you’ve got them.”
“And if not?”
“Then we need to find the money.”
Annie laughed. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along. But how? And even if we find it, how on earth can we get it?”
“Would a fake ID be enough?”
Annie laughed. “What—you mean pretend to be Susan? That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
Annie sputtered for a few seconds and then shook her head. “Having an ID wouldn’t be enough. We’d need bank records, account numbers. And they wouldn’t be stupid enough to put it in their own names. For all we know, they have hundreds of fake accounts to hide that kind of money. And I doubt they’re all at the same bank.”
“But some of them will be. If we can find some, we can find the others.”
“Yes, but what then? We make a fake ID and get bank records for all of them?”
Gwen shrugged. “No—but enough of them. Enough to start a new life.”
Annie shook her head, exasperated. “And how would we get the IDs, anyway?”
“I know a guy.”
Annie laughed. “That still doesn’t solve the main problem. We don’t know where it is! We don’t even have the bank-account numbers, for crying out loud. How on earth could we even find them?”
Gwen smiled, scooting close enough to Annie to kiss her. “Have you ever been on a stakeout?”