Full Disclosure (46 page)

“He liked her, he liked her photographs, and he talked her into doing the marketing work for his pizza business. And he pursued her. As he puts it, he tumbled after her like a high
school boy with a sweetheart crush. And she puzzled him to no end because she refused his invitations and wasn't interested in being seen with him.

“He's a smart man, and he can be relentless when he decides it matters. He eventually discovered who she was. He gave her back her art, in a very private studio and a very private vault. He convinced her it was safe to paint again. It took him another two years, but he convinced her it was safe to love him, and he convinced her to marry him. They've been married for ten years now.” Ann, remembering, smiled. “She thrives with him. They are a power couple, in the best meaning of that word.

“She's been painting every day of their marriage. She's had no critic to comment, no observer to comment, no collector to respond to her work, she's only had herself. And she has turned painting into something extraordinary. I have to go back centuries to find such an intense talent of genius in her field.

“He loves her, and he wants very much to give her back at least a slice of who she was before this happened. Her husband wants to release a book telling her story, and alongside it he wants to produce a coffee-table book showcasing her art. He asked me to write their story. He asked me because I had written Sara and Adam's story, because I was the MHI, because I was a good cop with a security clearance and resources and friends who could help me watch for signs of trouble brewing.

“When I agreed to write Sara and Adam's story, to write
Danger in the Shadows
, the man who'd gone after Sara was already dead. The reason she had been in witness protection was over, the threat was past. But this book is different. The man who wants to destroy her has a powerful family. They are still actively searching for her.

“My writing sounds like me. For the same reason she can't change her style of painting so it's not recognized as one of hers, I can't change my style of writing to not have the book be recognized as mine. Even published under another name, eventually it could be figured out. The assumption will correctly
be that I know her, know the name she now has, and have an idea where she lives. Those after her would go through me to get to her.

“When I was single, that risk could be managed. It changes now. I told them if I married you, I would end work on the book. And they were in complete agreement with that decision. Even published under another name, the risk is too great now. He is going to go ahead with the art book, but not her story. It was a very special case of someone who could write the book and have a reasonable chance of staying free of trouble. Her story is not going to get told, even if her art will get shared.”

Paul said, “You can't do the book because it will sound like you, and someone could recognize that you are the writer, and if they did, the Falcon family and businesses are at risk.”

“Yes.”

“You made the right decision, but I'm sorry, Ann. It would have been an incredible story for you to write.”

“I'm simply glad you hadn't met me after the book had been released. Marriage would have been a much more difficult decision for me to make if I knew this book was out there.”

“Who are they?”

“The retired shortstop for the Atlanta Braves, Kevin Copper, now the Pizza King, and his wife, Kimberly. Her real name is Paulette Sunfrey. She is never seen in public with her husband. She's had plastic surgery, but if you wondered, you would look at her and say maybe.”

He walked around to take the stool beside her and just considered his wife. “Sunfrey. Whose works already were legendary in her twenties before she disappeared. Whose work titled
The Coming Dawn
sold for just under two million when she was twenty-two. I keep postcards of her works in my desk drawers just so I can enjoy them.”

“If she were able to sell the paintings she now has in her private vault, she would be able to feed a country or two. They are extraordinary works.”

“Your friendship with them—you travel occasionally to see them?”

“They would keep a guest bedroom with my name on it when I was in the area. He travels a lot, and since I'm one of a handful of people his wife can be herself with, he encouraged the friendship from the first days we met. Now they are both simply good friends. They were some of the first people I called to tell I was getting married.”

“You need to keep seeing them, along with your other friends tucked around the nation. I know you've got a long list of them, many I haven't heard about yet. It's important you keep those friendships, Ann.”

“You'll hear about them now that we're married, and meet them too. I won't keep a friendship from you, even if I might be a bit cautious about when I happen to make the introduction.”

“I'm glad you told me.”

She studied his face and smiled. “I'd like the studio space upstairs, even if I'm just going to paint occasionally. I enjoy it, even if I don't have much talent, and I need the time alone. I wish I'd understood how tired I would be, so I could have warned you before we were married. I spent most of my working life traveling, in the air, sleeping in different motels, away from home, but I didn't see this coming, this fatigue that is sitting on me.”

“Time, Ann. You'll adapt and start resting again. You've got all the time you need.” He ran his hand across her back. “Let me go take Black for a walk while you unpack. Tomorrow I'll show you the nearest bookstore and the best place for Black to stretch his legs, and I'll introduce you to a few neighbors. We can have lunch at Falcons and try whatever Jackie considers to be her newest favorite dish.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After three days, the sounds in the house at night were beginning to seem familiar, and Ann was no longer surprised to hear the
faint noise of traffic at all hours. The bedroom was quiet. She was wide awake as she often was near midnight, and she was accustomed to lying quietly, using the time to think. Paul was drifting to sleep beside her. His arm was firmly anchoring her to his side. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I like hearing it,” he murmured, smiling even as he slid further toward sleep.

She was beginning to form ideas for a new book. She thought again about putting Paul in it, the idea of him, and writing her own love story. She smiled as she thought it and watched him sleep. She'd get up soon and go work for a while. But for now this was the place she most wanted to be, watching her husband and enjoying how much she loved him. She wanted to write their story, and have it for his family, so they would see this man who would be head of the Falcon dynasty like she did. She turned the ring on her finger, not feeling married yet, but getting used to the idea and the fact that she was. She'd made a good decision.

“I can feel you thinking, even with my eyes closed.” He opened them enough to see her and offered a sleepy smile.

“I'm going to go work for a bit.”

“Okay.” He reluctantly moved his arm to let her get up. “I'll miss you.”

She leaned over to kiss him. “Hold that thought. I'll be back.”

P
aul walked into his office, set his briefcase down, and shrugged off his coat. Rita had been kind to him. His desk was clear. “Where do you need me first?” She set coffee on his desk and, as today was his birthday, added a cupcake with a candle. He grinned—she'd gone with purple icing this year.

“The legal task force putting together the murder cases wants you all day tomorrow. It took me five reams of paper just to print the latest iteration of their trial case plans. Sam and I can talk you through them person by person faster than you can do the reading, but you'll have to get through the binders this week just to say you did.”

“Anything major?”

“Nothing Sam and I couldn't handle. They want more of a case than we have. But after this amount of time, well, you know, what we've got is what is there. Your mail is on my desk, sorted by what I think is high priority first. I'll bring you the top inch, let you get started on it.”

“Thanks, Rita.” He held up a hand to delay her long enough to be sure he'd seen the particulars of her necklace. “Did Sam finally stop being an idiot?”

She fingered the necklace and the stones as she smiled. “His birthday gift.”

“About time.”

“Yours wasn't so shabby either. How did you know I was learning to play the guitar?”

“I have a wife who notices things. She spotted the picks and the calluses.”

“I'm hoping weddings are contagious.”

“Sam couldn't do better. You want me to give him a shove, just let me know.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“I'm going to go walk the conference room and say hello to the troops, stop in to briefly see Arthur, then I'll get at the mail. Are you ready for that vacation to make up for the last weeks of double duty?”

“I wouldn't turn it down, but it was a surprisingly light few weeks. Either that or I'm getting better at being bossy and everyone was too terrified to complain.”

Paul laughed. “Whichever it was, I'm glad I left you in charge.”

The work pulled him in, and within an hour of being back at his desk he was catching the rhythm of it again. He'd missed it, the flow of cases.

Rita tapped on his door. “Paul, the VP is on his way. Said it's urgent. He didn't give a reason.”

“Meet him in the lobby and bring him straight up. I'll let Arthur know he's on the way in. Sam upstairs?”

“Yes.”

Paul made the calls and was just hanging up the phone when the VP arrived. Paul stood to greet him.

“Congratulations, Paul. I'm so pleased for you and Ann.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Paul's boss walked into the office with Sam behind him. The VP pulled an envelope from his pocket. “This came in this morning's mail. I wasn't looking for another correspondence from
her. I opened the letter before I realized what it was.” He laid it on the desk.

Paul snapped a picture of it, encoded the image, and passed his phone to Arthur. He read the letter. “Rita.” Paul stepped back to let her take his place, read the letter, and put it into an evidence bag.

Sam read the letter and passed Paul back the phone.

Agent Falcon—

I have one more tape more valuable than all the others combined—I come in, and I get witness protection for the rest of my life with house arrest for the first thirty years at my own expense. If the money runs out, I do the rest of the thirty years in medium security at a federal prison of my choosing under a name of my choosing. If you wish my attorney to know the name on the tape, have him send me a client attorney representation letter for purposes of knowing the name and advocating for the acceptance of my offer.

L.S.

It was the quiet in the room that told Paul more than what they might say. No one knew quite what to make of this. “What do you think, sir?”

The VP shook his head. “She's got financial means, she's free, and she's deciding she wants to come in? I'm not sure what to think. Do I ask her to tell me the name?”

Paul looked at his boss, then at the VP. “Ask her for the name. Sam will go with you. Get it out in the mail today if you can, Sam.”

“Did we miss a murder? Something even higher profile?” Rita asked.

Paul read the letter again. “She's certainly implying we did. We need to look for someone shot in the head, high enough profile the murder made the national newspapers, from the present back to when she first began to kill in '89. Someone else might have been convicted of the crime, so we look for the essential
fact, the shot to the head from a distance, not the outcome of the case. It's got to be she didn't leave a signature, she did the murder and we missed the signature, or she was paid to do it, she has the tape, and she didn't take the shot—she disappeared instead.”

“I'll get the guys in the conference room looking,” Rita said. “If everyone takes a different year, we can come up with a list of cases by end of day.”

Paul nodded. “Go.”

He looked at Arthur. “We need to convene decision-makers because this is going to be a Gordian knot.”

“Agreed. Tomorrow, noon. I'll get the director here. Find the case, Paul.” Arthur headed out.

Paul turned to the VP. “Thank you, sir. For the speed of bringing this in.”

“I wish I had more to give you. We'll get the request for the name into the mail today.”

Paul spent until six p.m. in the conference room, watching possible cases being added to the board, then marked off as further investigation showed it was not a match for their lady shooter profile. In the past he would have stayed here until midnight, searching for the case the letter implied was out there. He looked at the time. He was married, it was his birthday, his wife likely had something planned, and his family certainly would. He had to go. “Sam, I'm leaving this to you to monitor. Call if something really interesting shows up.”

Sam smiled. “Go, married guy. Rita and I have got this covered.”

The elevator doors opened. The dog wasn't waiting for him, looking desperate to escape. Nothing smelt burnt, so Ann hadn't crashed and burned on a birthday meal. Paul relaxed and stepped
off the elevator. Now that they were home, she was trying too hard to be a good wife, and he was waiting it out, figuring she'd relax if given enough time. Ann's flight bag was resting on the floor by the statue, and Black's leash was draped over the horn of the saddle. That was reassuring. She'd been out today, had taken her book with her. He heard music.

He walked through the kitchen on the way to find her and got them both sodas. Black showed up wagging his tail and looking for his attention. Paul rubbed the dog's head and scratched behind his ears. The dog was more content in the city than either one of them had figured. He seemed to think the thousands of scents crowding every block were all there just for him.

Paul found Ann hauling around another box of the books she was still unpacking and mixing in with his. He scanned the shelves and smiled. “You've made progress.”

Ann leaned into his hug. “Hi, birthday guy.”

He rubbed her back. “I'm feeling old.”

She grinned. “Jackie came through with your birthday cake. White cake, chocolate icing, lots of sprinkles. It's the box in the fridge. She said this one is just for us. We are to stop by the restaurant for the family-sized one. Your parents are entertaining the grandkids, and the party for the adults isn't really getting started until the restaurant closes. I told her we'd be there late.”

“Thanks.”

“I bought you a present yesterday.”

“Did you?” He smiled as he brushed her hair back from her face just to have a reason to touch her.

“I even put a bow on it. Would you like your present now or when we get home?”

“I like the anticipation of it. I'll wait till we're home.”

“How was the first day back at work?”

“I've got something to show you.”

“This can wait.” She pushed aside the box of books. “What do you have?”

He decrypted the photo on his phone and showed her the
latest letter from the lady shooter. “She's really going to come in?” Ann sank down on the couch and patted a place beside her.

Black took the invitation as for him and landed on the couch. Paul laughed and pushed the dog to the far end, not minding his foray onto the couch but not inclined to share Ann. He scanned the letter again. “I don't see how they can take the deal. We need her testimony to help with the thirty murder cases. But offer her witness protection and house arrest, the defense attorneys attack the sweetheart deal she got, and the political firestorm is intense. The decision-makers are gathering at noon. I'd like you to come.”

“Sure, I'll come if you want me to. Any ideas on the case she is referencing?”

“We're looking for a high-profile murder we missed, or a case that sounds like hers but someone else has been wrongly convicted of the crime. Nothing looks like a match so far. The VP is asking her for the name. I'm hopeful he can give us some direction without revealing what she said.”

“She has interesting timing.”

“You noticed that too. The legal task force has dug deep enough into the murder cases that they know her testimony would be helpful. I'm guessing, despite the politics of it, that they'll be advocating for some kind of deal to be struck. They need her testimony.” Black laid his head on Paul's knee, and he absently stroked the dog's back.

“I had accepted the fact she was going to be out there, and we had probably lost the chance to ever catch her. I'm inclined to think I could even live with witness protection and house arrest if only to get her somewhere we can talk with her. If she's really got something as significant as she describes, we need the tape. I'm worried she's dead if she stays out there. There are thirty people with resources who want her dead right now. But I'm surprised at her offer to turn herself in. She's got money, she's got her freedom. She could stay hidden. Something about this doesn't make sense.”