Full Disclosure (40 page)

Paul drove back to Chicago in a thoughtful mood.

She had trusted him with Lovely. She was taking big risks with him. She was trying to see if this could work. And he knew she wasn't yet anywhere near the same place he was.

He still faced the very possible risk that she would decide she simply didn't want to get married. He wanted them both to end up at the right decision, and he was worried he'd be at a yes, and she'd come to no. She deserved to be treasured. That was the one thought that came to mind and felt right to him. Treasured, loved.

This relationship was beginning to matter more than any cost he might have to pay to see where it could go. He was falling in love with her. And he thought he had found his future wife, if she would have him.

Ann hugged the bed pillow with one arm, but she didn't try to close her eyes and find sleep. Her emotions and her heart were too full. Paul had kissed her goodbye before he left for Chicago. The memory still lingered like a soft touch against her heart.

He is falling in love with me
. She had thought when he first told her that, sitting at Vicky's kitchen table, that the words had come in part out of a very emotional conversation. She had returned home, and Paul had given her back the calm of what they had before, the conversations, the casual friendship, the reasons to smile. He'd given her space so she could settle and rest. It had been good to get back out on MHI calls, to have her work.

And then he had come to meet her flight, sat with her on her back porch, and he'd kissed her for the first time. She had enjoyed kissing him back. He'd kissed her four times over the course of this weekend, each one bright in her memory, and while it had been a light touch on his part, there had been nothing casual about the change in their relationship. Her heart was so full of emotions. Paul was falling in love with her. When
he crossed that line to
I love you
, he would want much more than a friendship.

He was going to ask her what she wanted. And she didn't know how to answer that question. She was overwhelmed with the emotions of it. For the first time in years she wanted to pull the covers up over her head and hide. Her joy was welling up alongside pure fear. He had her emotions so tangled that if she let her feelings decide tonight, she would either run toward him or run away, and she couldn't guess which it would be.

She was single, content being single. She'd come into the year with no inkling she might be asked to consider a change. She admired good marriages. She'd just never let herself dream about one happening for her. She had risked with Paul, every step along the way, sharing secrets, giving him the most precious private facts she had. She'd found him a man she could trust at every level. It wasn't that she hadn't known this day was a possibility; she just hadn't expected for it to be here this weekend. She wanted a slow shift from where she was comfortable to where Paul was taking them. This wasn't going to move slowly anymore. Paul was doing the shifting now, to something a lot more solid, permanent, than a friendship.

Could she be a good wife? For the first time in years she asked herself the question knowing it was more than speculation, and one she might have to answer soon.

The physical intimacy would be new ground for her. She still blushed at the thought of what it would be like. The idea of being with Paul every night for the rest of her life was an intoxicating thought. She'd enjoy being his wife and love the intimacy of being with him.

She'd like his family, like having relatives again. The conversations, the inside family jokes, the holiday gatherings—she'd be absorbed into his large family and have a place again.

Paul wouldn't have a casual marriage. It would be a lifetime, an
everything
decision on his part. She wanted that kind of connection to someone who knew her secrets and loved her.

She just didn't want to fail.

She owed it to him to say no rather than let him walk into a marriage that would fail. She was the weak link when it came to a marriage. Paul would be a good husband, comfortable in the role. He'd step into it with the same assured confidence with which he would one day step into the role of being head of the Falcon family.

But she was deeply uncomfortable at the idea of being a wife. Even the mere thought exhausted her. She could ruin her life and his by assuming she could do this, be a wife, only to find out she couldn't handle it. It would mean a new place, new people, new expectations, the transition of her job, her writing—all of her life would be different. Change drained her. Time would help, but it would be a constant struggle to adapt to the role. He didn't realize what it would take for her to say yes.

Did she want to say yes? None of her doubts were about Paul. All of them were about her. She didn't want to find out two months into the marriage that they were both disappointed. She had to live in reality, not in wishful thinking. She couldn't afford a marriage which failed.

What did she need so she wouldn't fail? How did she say yes and not fail? She pondered those questions as sleep eluded her.

She needed Paul to give her more time. She needed to be able to dial back the pace at which this was moving. She felt like she was being pulled forward into a decision before she was ready to make one. He'd want to hear “I love you,” and she couldn't even identify her emotions right now. Paul had her twisted into knots with wonder, and deeply afraid at the same time. She smiled, then groaned in the darkness. That wasn't what he had intended when he came for the weekend. There were no easy choices in front of her.

P
aul walked into the war room Monday morning, opened his briefcase, and retrieved the long list he had written the night before. “Where are we at, Sam?”

The man nodded toward the board. “Rita has names identified for the recent twelve tapes. That makes twenty-two out of the thirty murders solved. It sure feels good, looking at those cases and knowing the truth of what happened.”

Paul handed over the pad of paper. “Look over that list and give me your impressions. I've been sketching out how we best make these arrests.”

Sam settled back in his chair and began to read. “I can tell you I'm looking forward to it, boss.”

“So am I. Any questions from our guys?”

“They're curious about what has us occupied in the war room, and they've guessed there is a lead on the lady shooter case, but I don't think anyone's picked up the rumor we've got all the cases potentially solved. No one has whispered ‘audiotapes.' The guys will be eager to help once it's time to fill them in on the developments.” Sam read the list. “You want our guys to do the interviews.”

“Yes. We're going to get one opportunity to use those tapes to our advantage, and that moment is the interview when we
present the deal we're prepared to offer in return for a guilty plea. We divide the thirty cases, two or three murder suspects per team, and let our guys use their knowledge of this case to their advantage.”

“Do we play the tapes, as brief as they are?”

“I think we have to. That tape is the risk to them. They either believe we can turn that audio into a guilty murder conviction, or they don't. I think more than a few will be caught off guard by the fact we have it on tape, and they will take the deal rather than run the risk of a trial.”

Paul pulled over the files Sam had been building for the twenty-two listed names. He settled in to catch up on the reading.

Paul's phone rang just after lunch. He pulled it out of his pocket, nodded at Sam, and answered, putting the phone on speaker so Sam could listen in. “Hello, sir.”

“Her letter arrived in today's mail. Should I open it?”

“Yes, sir.” They heard some paper rustling.

“She is offering eight tapes—all high-profile names—to get medium security in the state of Wisconsin,” the VP said. “This is the last of the thirty tapes. You knew there was going to be a difficult-to-swallow offer, and she just made it. She wants to do her time at a medium-security federal prison in Wisconsin. The question is, how valuable are eight tapes with high-profile names?”

“The last four were worth it.”

“Medium security for thirty murders—it's asking for a lot. Let me know if Arthur wants me there when this offer is discussed, or if you want to bring me the decision on what to reply.”

“I will, sir. If I don't have an opportunity later to say it, thanks for the help you've provided. I am eight tapes away from having thirty murders solved. That wouldn't have happened as smoothly without your help as her lawyer, sir.”

“I've wanted this case solved ever since it first came to my
attention when I was the director, so I echo your sentiments. It's good to have the truth known.”

Paul went to update Arthur with the news. When he returned to the war room an hour later, Sam was pulling cable for an additional monitor. “What do you have, Sam?”

“This final answer goes to a post-office box. I've got a tap into the security cameras at that post-office branch.” Sam finished securing the cable and then spoke into the phone he held. “Wave, Tim.” The man on the video feed waved. “The back of a postbox is just an open slot where they can put the mail. You open the box on the lobby side with a key and get your mail.” Sam switched to the phone. “Put the package in her slot, Tim.” The man on the video ran his fingers along a line of numbers, stopped, and put a blue-and-white mailer into a slot. “Thanks.”

Sam stuck a Post-it note to the monitor. “We can hand-deliver our reply to the post office and put it in the box ourselves, and you can tell it's there. That size and shape and blue and white stands out. Since the cameras are stationary, we mark on the monitor which box is hers. We can see the package sitting there.

“Short of putting a cop standing beside the box with his hand on the mailer, this is good coverage. If there's any concern, we lock down the building. It's a small branch, ten employees, with another thirty who come in and sort mail and go out on deliveries.”

“It sounds like I need to make the popcorn. I like it, Sam. Choose guys you trust from the local office to watch the building and be ready to lock it down if necessary.”

“You think she's still going to lift the package.”

“I think she knows exactly what you do, and she's figured something out. If she wants to get caught, she's going to open the post-office box, take out the agreement, sign in, and surrender. She won't run. She'll either slip that package out from under our noses or she will pick it up and surrender.”

Sam blinked. “I actually hadn't thought of that possibility.”

Paul smiled. “We're so used to chasing people who run, it seems odd to consider someone might stop running. If she gave us her real name, there's a chance she's also decided to end this after thirty tapes and a decent deal and turn herself in. We still don't know what changed, what caused her to send those first tapes to us. She was out there and unknown, and something changed that she wanted a deal ready if we caught her. We may have been closer than we realized.

“She has to know that once we start to make arrests, there will be thirty people with considerable financial means who will have an incentive to kill her before she can testify. I'd lay fifty-fifty odds she's going to pick up the package herself, sign the document, have the tapes on her, and turn herself in.”

“You want to come with me? Rita? We should be there, all of us, if she's going to surrender.”

“Take Rita with you. If our lady shooter turns herself in, keep it low profile, and drive her back to here. Chat if she's inclined to chat. Put anything she says onto tape. Both you and Rita should be wearing microphones and have a couple turned on in the car. Redundancy will be your friend. If she turns herself in, I'll buy the dinner when you get back. If she somehow slips this package out from under us for a final time, you're buying the dinner.”

Sam smiled. “I'll take that deal. What's upstairs going to decide about the deal she wants?”

“I have no idea on this one. They're meeting later today.”

“Rita and I will get on the road just as soon as they have the reply on paper.”

“We'll take a hit for giving medium security for thirty murders, but I can live with it.” The director finally called the debate closed after two hours of hashing out how to respond. “It's not worth losing the tapes. Not when they are this valuable.” He
turned to the VP. “Write up the offer, Jim, and let's get those last tapes. Given the ones on the last four high-profile tapes, I need to know the names on these next eight tapes regardless of the cost to get them.

“If she continues to elude us, this deal is just a piece of paper. If we catch her several years from now, she's going to be in her sixties and the thirty arrests are going to be history. This gets interesting if we pick her up when she retrieves this package. But if we do, the press is going to have thirty murders to take some of their attention. We can ride out the news cycle of it.”

“I'll have the agreement written up by this evening,” the VP agreed.

“Ann.”

“Hi, Paul.” She smiled when she saw him appear on the screen. “Say hi, Black.”

The dog barked once and stood up with his feet on the table to better see the video. Paul chuckled at the dog, who looked wide awake and wanting to play. “Hello, Black.”

Ann hugged the animal and nudged him back down. “You're up late.”

Paul glanced at the clock and realized it was nearing midnight. “The last agreement for the last of the tapes is ready to go. Sam will deliver it tomorrow. We're at the endgame.”

“Nice.” She settled into her favorite chair and picked up a book to show him the cover. “Thanks for the book. I just started it. It's a good read.”

“I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Neva sent a lemon-meringue pie home with me. I wish you were here to share it.”

Paul smiled. “Same here. I didn't need anything in particular; I'm just calling to say I'm heading home, and to say good night.”

“Glad you did. Good night, Paul.”

“Good night, beautiful.”