Speak of the Devil (25 page)

Anna stared at him. She’d bought her wedding dress yesterday. She’d ordered a cake.

“I have to tell my fiancé. The engagement party is tonight. He needs to know that his . . .” Anna’s voice trailed off.

“His wife,” Nina said. “The mother of his child. Is still alive.”

“Jack doesn’t need to know anything,” Sam said. “The less you tell him, the better. C’mon, Anna.”

Sam turned to the deputy Marshal as she shepherded Anna out the door. “We’ll reschedule this.”

“We’ll have to see if we can bring the witness back,” Deputy Cook said. “It takes a lot of resources.”

Sam and Anna walked out into the night. The air outside the hotel room was thirty degrees cooler, but Anna hardly felt the change. She walked, in a daze, down the hall, down the steps, to the unmarked Taurus. Deputy Fitzgerald was still sitting in the driver’s seat reading a newspaper, exactly as she had been when Anna left, as if the whole world hadn’t just collapsed.

38

Anna was vaguely aware of Sam waving Fitzgerald off and saying she would escort Anna herself. Sam bundled her into the passenger seat of the Durango and drove off. Anna stared at the Jersey barriers floating past on New York Avenue, as she tried to process what had just happened. Sam was silent, giving Anna the space she needed to recalibrate her life.

A few things suddenly made sense. Hector Ramos hadn’t hurt Nina—he’d been standing over the body in the alleyway because he was staging a “crime scene” to help his friend fake her death. MS-13 wasn’t carrying Nina’s photo as a trophy—they suspected she was still alive, and still had a greenlight out on her. The photo was for the members to be on the lookout so they could kill her on sight.

But no matter how much she turned it over in her head, there was one question Anna couldn’t answer. She turned to Sam.

“Why would a woman fake her own death and not tell her husband?”

Sam shook her head. “I’m trying to figure that one out myself.”

“How could a mother make her child go through that?”

“Not everyone has the same maternal instinct.”

“Okay. But
how
would she even do it? I know Witsec would get her a new name, ID, social security number. Relocation. But a corpse? Autopsy photos?”

“That’s the easy part.” Sam sped through a yellow light. “That’s what they do. I had a case where they relocated a man, his wife,
and
his mistress—without the wife knowing. The guy wouldn’t leave without her. Here, they’d just need an unclaimed body with similar specs to Nina. The Marshals have jurisdiction over the entire country, so they’d have some choices. Not so hard, then, to set up the ‘crime scene’ and ‘autopsy’ photos. ‘Identify’ her with fingerprints and Hector’s testimony. It’s clever.”

“It’s horrible,” Anna said. “Jack and Olivia thought she was dead all these years. They thought they buried her.”

“I know. I was there.”

The street flew past in a blur of chain-link, neon, and cement. The sun was in the last throes of setting, casting long gray shadows across the world.

“What am I gonna do, Sam? I just ordered my wedding invitations.”

“Am I invited?”

“Of course. With a guest.”

“Thanks.” Sam turned north onto Thirteenth Street. “Look, this isn’t a dilemma. Jack and Nina are done. There’s a death certificate. Legally, that’s as good as a divorce. Just keep planning your wedding.”

“I can’t do that without telling Jack that his wife is—”

“Stop,” Sam held up a hand. “If you’re planning to breach Witsec procedures, don’t tell me about it beforehand. I’d have an obligation to report it.” She glanced sideways at her friend. “Hypothetically speaking, though, I don’t think anyone would blame you if it just slipped out in the heat of the moment.”

Anna glanced at the clock: It was 5:28. Her engagement party would begin in one hour and thirty-two minutes. She wasn’t sure she could get through it.

“Sam, can you pull over?”

Sam nodded and pulled the Durango to the curb. Cardozo High School was on their right, sitting at the crest of a big hill. Anna got out and stood on the sidewalk. The city spread out before her, its lights shimmering below. In the distance, the U.S. Capitol and the Washington Monument were lit with spotlights. Anna noticed neither the lovely view nor the wind whipping her hair against her face. She stood, arms crossed over her chest, trying to breathe, trying to clear her head. She couldn’t seem to get a really good lungful of air.

Sam came and stood next to her.

“You want me to cancel the party?” Sam asked softly. “I can make the calls.”

Anna looked out at the city and tried to focus her thoughts. Eventually, she became aware of the cold, the wind, and the strands of her hair stinging her cheeks. Her sister had come to town for this. Her best friend had been planning this party for weeks. Caterers had been hired; they were probably at Grace’s house right now.

“No,” Anna said. “I’d like to go to my party.”

Sam nodded, and they got back into the car. Anna directed her to the lovely residential streets of Woodley Park. She would compartmentalize the news, let Jack enjoy the party, and try to enjoy it herself. She would tell him afterward. She dreaded the idea.

Grace’s house was a historic white four-square with gray shutters and a red door. Sam parked in the driveway and insisted on coming in to help set up.

“You’re a guest,” Anna said. “Come back at seven.”

“I was practically raised in a restaurant,” Sam said, climbing out of the Durango. “I nail appetizers. Besides, you should have someone with you who knows what’s going on now.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re early!” Grace greeted them at the door with a smile and cheek kisses. “Come on in, I have a couple spare aprons.”

She led them into her beautiful house, all shiny wood floors and crown moldings and impeccable taste. Crystal vases were filled with ivory roses. Glass globes held smooth gray stones and white candles waiting to be lit. Everything was festive, elegant, and happy. Raffles was curled up on a dove-gray couch. When he saw Anna, he mewled and ran over. She bent down so he could give her a furry head butt.

Grace brought them to her enormous kitchen, where Jody was laying tiny champagne grapes on a tray of cheese. “Hey!” Jody looked up. Holding her damp hands in the air, she came to give Anna a hug, but then stopped in front of her sister. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Anna put on her best happy voice and made the hug happen. “What smells so delicious in here?”

Soon, they were all in female-in-kitchen autopilot mode. Anna sliced strawberries, Jody washed dishes, Sam arranged a mound of shrimp on ice. Grace instructed the caterers on where to set up silver warming dishes. Her husband was a partner at one of the downtown mega law firms; she was expert at throwing fancy events.

Jack arrived fifteen minutes before the party was set to start. He came into the kitchen, kissed Anna, hugged Grace and Jody, and greeted Sam with a surprised high five. He handed Grace a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and a bouquet of tiger lilies and thanked her for hosting the party.

“So,” he turned to Anna and popped a strawberry in his mouth. “How did your meeting with the Witsec witness go?”

She glanced at Sam. “Very interesting. Julia was not at all what I expected.”

“They never tell you the real story for these witnesses,” Jack said. “Let me guess. A construction worker who got a sex-change operation and has a new identity as a female hairstylist? True story, I had a case like that once.”

“Let’s talk about it after the party. Here, carry this to the living room.” Anna handed him a crystal bowl full of berries.

Soon, the guests arrived, and the house was filled with the happy sounds of a party. People chatted, forks pinged against china, crystal flutes clinked as champagne was poured into them. Anna stood with her arm tucked into Jack’s elbow as they made their way through the crowd, greeting everyone, accepting congratulations.

Her mind kept flashing images of Jack and Nina as a young couple, hopeful, in love. Standing at an altar, making their vows to each other. In the hospital, after Nina gave birth to their baby girl. Anna wasn’t sure Jack would still want to go forward with their wedding once he learned his wife was alive. Anna tried to shake off these visions and portray the happy bride she wanted to be, graciously accepting good wishes. She’d deal with the rest later.

Daniel Davenport, the defense attorney on the Capitol homicide case, came over to shake hands and offer his congratulations. Rose Johnson, who’d been a witness in one of Anna’s domestic violence cases, gave her a hug and a Hallmark card. A couple of Jack’s cousins had come to town, and Anna put on her best face for them. She could feel them sizing her up. Jack didn’t have much family in D.C. He was an only child, his father had never been in the picture, and his mother had been a transplant from North Carolina. Anna hoped she was making a good impression on the few family members who’d made the trek.

Marty Zinn, the acting U.S. Attorney, dinged a fork against a wineglass. The room quieted, and Marty gave a funny speech about Anna and Jack’s interoffice relationship. Anna made sure a smile stayed on her face the whole time. He presented them with a faux conflict-of-interest waiver signed by the Attorney General. Everyone laughed and clapped.

Jack stepped forward and held up his hands.

“This is a wonderful occasion.” His deep voice commanded the room. “Anna and I both want to thank you for coming to celebrate it with us.”

Jack had a great presence in a courtroom, and was even more compelling in a room full of people who were just there to see him. He looked handsome and confident, and she felt a stab of possessiveness. This was her fiancé. They’d gone through a lot to be here.
Mine
, she thought.
This man is
mine.

Jack thanked Grace for throwing the party and inviting everyone into her beautiful home. The room filled with cheers and clinks as everyone drank a toast to their hostess.

“And now I’d like to propose a toast to my fiancée.” He beamed at Anna. The rest of the crowd raised their champagne glasses. “I’m so lucky to have this woman. Many of you know the tragedy my family went through four years ago. I might never have recovered from it, if I hadn’t met such a wonderful person, and fallen so deeply in love.” He looked down directly at her. “Anna, I love you. Thank you for making me the luckiest man in the world.”

The room erupted in cheers and clinks. He took a sip and leaned down to kiss her. His lips were warm beneath the cool drops of champagne. When he pulled back, she had tears in her eyes. His brows knitted.

“I’m just so happy,” she said.

He smiled and handed her a cocktail napkin. She dabbed at her eyes. After the speech, more people came up, offering them congratulations. Anna put on her best glowing-bride smile. She accepted all the good wishes with cheer and laughter. When she teared up one more time, she passed it off as the misty eyes of a bride. If there was one thing Superior Court taught a prosecutor, it was how to keep from crying when things were falling apart.

As the night wore on and the liquor flowed, the inevitable war stories were trotted out. Legal blunders, mistaken identities, flashes of brilliance, strokes of dumb luck. McGee started telling a story involving Jack, a murder at a strip club, and a one-legged pimp. Anna took the opportunity to slip through Grace’s kitchen, out the sliding glass doors, and onto the back porch. The night air was shockingly cold as it hit her skin. The view of the backyard was black on black, tall trees topped by the night sky. She walked to the edge of the porch, put her elbows on the railing, and took bracing gulps of the cold air.

• • •

Gato stood in front of the big white mansion with the red door. From a dark spot at the side of the house, under a weeping cherry tree, he could see both the front walk and the back porch. He kept watch for the lady prosecutor.

His whole body ached, he was covered in bruises, and conflicting thoughts battled in his mind. “You live in the world you create,” Señora Zanita had said. “Happiness cannot be stolen . . . it must be earned.” But if he didn’t kill the prosecutor now, the gang would kill him. No one had to tell him that; he’d been around long enough to know.

Part of him wished they would just do it, put him out of his misery. Even more than the bruises from the beating, his head hurt from the constant struggle to be someone he wasn’t. He was too good to fit in the gang, but too evil to fit anywhere else. In his pocket, his hand brushed against the gang’s handgun. He imagined how the cold barrel would taste if he put it in his mouth.

He could see dozens of people through the brightly lit windows. There was some kind of party happening inside. Everyone was having a good time, talking, eating, drinking. Their laughter heightened his solitude. Their warmth made him feel even colder. He hated them. He wanted to be them. He knew he never would.

He stood under the weeping cherry tree and waited for his chance. It came at around ten o’clock. The sliding glass doors at the back of the house opened and the prosecutor came out, onto the back porch. She was alone. She walked to the edge of the deck, put her elbows on the railing, and brushed something from her cheek.

Gato climbed the wooden steps to the deck, making no noise. His nickname meant “cat” for a reason. The woman’s back was to him as she stared into the blackness. Gato’s fingers closed around the gun.

39

Nina sat at the cheap motel table, staring without appetite at the Wendy’s takeout that Deputy Cook had brought her. Cook sat across from her, looking worried at her failure to eat anything all day. He was her handler, and knew her better than anyone else at this point. He was the only person in her current life who knew she wasn’t the woman listed on her driver’s license. She’d come to a decision, and he needed to know.

“Jeff, after I testify, I want to come out.”

“You gotta stay in the hotel for your own safety.”

“No. I mean come out of Witsec for good. Give up this ‘Julia Hernandez’ identity and be me again.”