Full Disclosure (12 page)

“I think it's more like the VP introduces her to people
occasionally. Paul, the VP was the one who introduced me to Ann. I've never told anyone that before. That day changed my life and hers in more ways than I can say. I ended up with a really good friend. There's not much I wouldn't do for Ann, or that she wouldn't do for me. Don't mess this up, okay? Ann matters.”

“I'll be careful,” Paul reassured. He knew his time on this call was running out. “Has she ever been in love, Vicky?”

“Twice. Both times broke her heart. Both were before she became a cop.”

“Can you tell me something about her you think I should know?”

Vicky hesitated. “I will tell you of one thing you must know. And I'm only doing so because I know of no other way to protect her. She dreams, Paul, terrible dreams, of writing and watching blood drip on the page—so dark a dream that I wonder at times how she can keep on writing. She wakes to a gunshot.”

Paul closed his eyes. Everyone had secrets. It was one of the reasons he was going to her friends first, so he didn't stumble around blind to what was there.

“How long has she been having that nightmare?”

“I've known her for nine years.”

“And she works from ten p.m. to two a.m. every night, to avoid the dream.”

“That is Ann too.”

“What happened?”

“I only know what she's told me, and she's told me precious little.”

“I don't know what to do with the information, Vicky.”

“You will. When it most matters, you'll have figured it out.

“She's got a good heart, Paul. She'll give you a chance, but she'll stay cautious until she's made a decision. She will like to know your story. Who you are and where you come from. She will like to meet your family, for seeing how you are with them will tell her more about you than anything you could say. She's
quiet waters, with a lot underneath you don't see. But she's fair, and she'll be inclined to like you. She likes cops as a rule.”

“Thanks for that.”

He could hear a hum in the background and the sound of muted voices. “I should have asked when this call began where you are tonight.”

“Over the Pacific Ocean in a vast airliner lazily circling as the night sky fills with stars. We'll climb to high altitude at midnight and begin taking pictures of the Pella comet as the debris trail crosses into the atmosphere. And while we are there enjoying the view, we might take a couple thousand close-up photos of the satellite that popped up in stationary orbit unannounced a month ago.”

“I thought you were going to stay retired, Vicky.”

“I brought the coffee,” she replied with a laugh. “Seriously, there are enough satellite geeks on board wanting to decipher the new toy in the sky and who put it there, that the boss needed an adult to come along so someone remembered to take pictures of the comet. Pretty gnarly mess, going on a trip to take pictures of a comet and not take pictures of the comet.”

“Would you bring me one of the better ones? Ann likes to stargaze.”

“Gladly. It's a fun job tonight, Paul, so don't worry about me. I'll call you when I get home, and we'll have a longer conversation.”

“Thanks, Vicky.”

Paul stood at his office window, watching the moon rise and the occasional plane trail across the night sky, waiting for the ten o'clock alarm. When it signaled, he shut it off and returned to his desk.

He knew the number by heart but still looked it up in the case file before he dialed. Ann answered on the third ring.

“Ann, it's Paul.”

“Just a sec, Paul, I'll bring up video.”

He looked to his screen and her image appeared, flickered, and smoothed out. She offered a quick smile in greeting, and he smiled back. He put down his phone and switched over to the secure conference call. “You remembered the code.”

“Numbers tend to stick for some reason.”

He wasn't sure what was on the wall behind her, but he realized with some interest he might be seeing where she lived. “You're home?”

“Just got in.” She turned the screen and camera to show him the room. Lamps on tables lit the room, and he saw a dark burgundy couch, two wingback chairs, tables stacked with books, and what looked like an easel at the edge of the camera's view. The wall opposite the couch looked like his conference room walls, scattered with photos and timelines and colored marker notes. As she turned the camera back, it passed over something moving, and a dark mass of hair wiped out the lower inch of the monitor's view. A dog, a big, massive dog.

“It looks like a comfortable place to work on a murder.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the cluttered wall and turned back to him with a smile. “That one's a book rather than the job.”

“You build your books, then, like you do your cases.”

“Something like that.”

“Where's home?”

“A place about six miles north of Medora.”

“Is that your dog pushing at you? I can see part of an ear.”

“I promised him a walk. I'm not supposed to sit down.”

Ann tilted the camera and he got a screen full of dog face looking back at him.

“This is Midnight. I just call him Black.”

Paul laughed. “He's handsome and beautiful and very big.”

“His feet are like dinner plates.”

“I always wanted a dog. They just don't deserve city buildings and elevators and lots of asphalt.”

“Live downtown?”

Paul nodded. “One of those old brick buildings that survived the Chicago fire. My family has owned the fourth floor for the last eighty years. It used to be my grandfather's home.”

“I like the art behind you.”

“Yeah?”

He slid out of the way so she could better see the canvas. “It's one of several of hers I've collected. I like the way she handles her blues. I could send you a print if you like. I've got a connection that can get her lithographs.”

“Pocket that idea until you need a favor.”

“Feels like I already got one, Ann. I am going to enjoy spending your money. I'm sending teams out to sixty-four cities without any bureaucratic delays. So thank you again. When the roses arrive, you're going to put them on your desk and enjoy them.”

She smiled at the news. “I'll find a place for them.”

“It was a very nice thing to do.”

“I gather I caused you some problems with how it was done.”

“You caused curiosity on the part of a lot of people over what had happened and why. Rumors were flying that I had an in with the Treasury secretary. The budget office personnel were in a tizzy as they had never seen his name on a budget transfer before. And I didn't really have answers to give them. Ann, what did you do?”

“Called a friend.” She shrugged. “It was going to get messy if I didn't do something, because the award was there, and it's a good reason to have a press conference and announce they caught the currency thief, and I'd get my arm twisted to be there and accept the award—I had to do something to cut it off before it went that far.

“I called a friend at the Department of Justice and said the award would be a problem for me, and since the money could solve a problem for you, I asked if it could be transferred. She said yes. I said thank you. That's all I did. She's a lawyer and actually likes paperwork. I thought she would talk to the director
of the award program, figure out the right paperwork, and get it to the right person. It obviously turned out to be more than that.”

“Can you ask her what she did?”

Ann hesitated, and then nodded. “Since I made such a mess of the gift . . . hold on.”

She picked up her phone, pushed her dog to move him over, and disappeared from video to make a call.

She looked relieved when she returned.

“She talked to the director of the award program. He said no problem, but it was complicated because it was one government agency to another. So she called her fiancé and explained the problem. He talked to his boss. His boss made two calls. The Treasury secretary said okay, the FBI director said okay, and the Treasury secretary sent the award money to your budget line. It took twenty minutes. It was done before I finished that second mug of hot chocolate you brought.” Ann smiled. “That's what a friend does. They make an intolerable problem go away for you. A press conference is an intolerable problem for me. So she said yes and handled it.”

“Who's her fiancé?”

“Reece Lion. He's Secret Service, the lead agent for the former VP. I introduced them. He wouldn't have thought twice about helping her out, and the VP is a nice guy. He used to be the FBI director back when the lady shooter first began killing, so making a couple of calls to arrange the money transfer would have been something he'd appreciate doing. It took twenty minutes, my call to my friend, to transfer of the funds. It wasn't that big a deal.”

Paul could tell she really believed it wasn't that big a deal. “Ann, answer me this. Are you surprised the Treasury secretary was personally involved in fulfilling your request?”

She looked perplexed. “No. I needed the person who could move the money between departments, and that turned out to be the Treasury secretary. My request passed along a line of
friends until someone had the ability to solve the matter, and they did.”

“Help me understand, Ann. Is the former VP one of your friends?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“So you could have called the former VP. You have his number.”

She reluctantly confirmed it. “I have his number.”

“You called your friend at Justice.”

“I thought it was going to be one call to the award director and paperwork, Paul. Of course I called her. I hate paperwork. I could have called the VP, but why would I? If you go higher than you need to, you're only doing it to show someone else that you can. It's unnecessary, wastes your friend's time, and shows your own poor judgment. The fact this request ended up at the VP shows how bureaucratic the government is. My name was on the award money. I should have been able to send it anywhere I wanted and gotten a thank-you instead of someone saying we can't take it without approval.”

Paul started to smile. “I see why Dave said you could manage the Falcons just fine.”

“What?”

“For another time.”

“I'm sorry for this mess. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise, having the budget delays dealt with, that's why I didn't tell you what I was going to do when I declined the award money. It was intended to be a pleasant surprise. It's probably the last one I try to do for a few months. No wonder I hate surprises myself.”

“The thought was nice, the outcome is appreciated, and I learned a whole lot about you, so it didn't turn out that bad. What color of roses do you prefer?”

“Pink,” she replied without hesitation.

“Are you going to be home for a few days?”

“I'm normally home. The phone rings with a case, I'm not home anymore. I don't mind the unpredictable schedule. I get
to spend a lot of time flying. A neighbor watches my place when I'm away.”

“You like the job.”

“Love it, as a rule. I just wish there were fewer homicides to work.”

“Email me your address, and I'll have a nice bouquet arriving tomorrow.”

“Send it to the sheriff's office here in town, if you don't mind. The job's over at the end of the month when the county takes over policing, but there's enough packing of case files and evidence in storage to be transferred to the county that I'm spending most of my time there.”

“I'll do that then. Oh, one other thing . . . another piece of information I should mention. My brother Boone is married to Vicky Bassett.”

He saw brief intense surprise cross her face and relaxed when he saw it. She hadn't known the connection. “When you came to Chicago you didn't realize who I was?”

“I obviously recognized the Falcon name. I figured you were related indirectly, second cousins or something. You don't look like your brother.”

“I'm the adopted oldest, and Boone's next to the youngest. I've read Vicky's story. You write a nice book.”

“Thanks.”

He was fascinated to see the start of a blush.

“She asked me to write the book because she couldn't tell her family what had happened during the years she was gone. It was her story, but it was fiction. She was in Asia, not Europe, during those years. Did she tell you about the book? I thought I had her identity camouflaged pretty well.”

“I recognized the evergreen falling on the garage.”

“I debated back and forth putting that in the book. I was there when it happened and it was so sidesplitting funny, I just couldn't resist.”

“I could see it just as you described. You've got a good friend in Vicky, Ann. I'm glad you two know each other.”