Twisted Lies Read online

  "Feisty, as always."

  Marisa said, "You two were school friends?"

  They both laughed. "Actually," Brady said, "Nate is much older than I am."

  Nate turned to face her. "Like three years. Brady tried to fill my shoes on the football team."

  "Tried to? We went to the state championship."

  "And lost, if I remember."

  "Closer than you got."

  Both men laughed, and Marisa sat forward, intrigued. "So you weren't high school friends?"

  "Nope," Nate said. "I barely knew him, and then, for a while, I kind of hated him."

  "Fair enough," Brady said. "I kind of hated you for a while there, too." He met Marisa's eyes again. "See, there's this woman."

  "Ah," she said.

  "Your wife now." Nate turned to her. "They were married the Saturday between Christmas and New Year's."

  "You had a thing for her?" Marisa asked, ignoring a pang of jealousy. As if she had time for that.

  "We were together a few years when she lived in New York, a million years ago. Before I met you."

  "Ah. And you were angry at Brady for stealing her away?" Marisa asked.

  "Nah," Nate said. "I was angry because the whole time I was with Reagan, I knew she still had a thing for Brady. I never could make her forget him."

  Marisa couldn't imagine any woman choosing another man over Nate.

  What was wrong with her? What kind of mother thinks of men when her daughter is missing? Missing, maybe dead. The kidnappers hadn't called back. She hadn't heard her daughter's voice in nearly twenty-four hours. Had Ana eaten? Had she slept? Were they being kind to her? Had they hurt her?

  "Hey." Nate reached over the seat to grab her hand. "You okay? Where'd you go there?"

  She just shook her head.

  He pulled off his seatbelt and climbed into the back.

  "What are you doing?" she said.

  Brady angled away but didn't say a word as Nate settled in the seat beside her. "She's okay," he said.

  "You don't know that."

  "Until we know she's not, we're going to assume she is."

  Tears filled her eyes. She'd cried more in the last day than she had since Vinnie died. "I don't know how to do that."

  "They get nothing from you if she's not okay."

  "You mean if they kill her, but they could hurt her. They could..." All the thoughts of what they could be doing to her daughter, to her sister, hit her.

  Nate wrapped his arms around her and held her. "They have no reason to hurt her."

  "They have no reason not to."

  Brady cleared his throat. "From the little Nate told me on the phone, it sounds like these guys are after money. In my experience... Did he tell you I'm a cop?"

  Nate had said that, though she'd forgotten. She nodded.

  "Anyway," Brady continued, "in my experience, most people, even bad guys, don't hurt kids. Most people value children and care for them, even hardened criminals. So unless these guys are kidnappers and...something worse, your Ana is probably okay."

  But maybe they were the something worse.

  Brady stopped in traffic and turned back to her. "You know, they say fewer than five percent of men are..." He faltered, looked at Nate, and turned back at her. "Like little kids in an inappropriate way."

  Perverts. Pedophiles. That's what he was trying to say.

  "Less than five percent," Brady repeated. "Not bad odds."

  Those weren't bad odds. Brady was right. But she wasn't in the habit of gambling with her daughter's life. Odds seemed irrelevant.

  "And Leslie's with her." Nate squeezed her shoulder. "Leslie's taking care of her."

  "What about Leslie, though?"

  "Your sister's tough," Nate said. "She can handle it. And don't you remember the way she took to Ana, held her hand, took her shopping? Leslie won't let your daughter get hurt."

  The traffic moved, so Brady turned to the front again. "We're going to find her, Marisa. We won't stop until we do."

  Tears stung her eyes. She reached forward and touched Brady's shoulder. "Thank you." She turned to Nate. "And thank you. I can never thank you enough. You didn't ask for any of this."

  "Neither did you," Nate said. "We have to play the hand we're dealt."

  "You don't have to play it, though. You could walk away."

  He shook his head. "You think I'd do that?"

  "No. I know you wouldn't. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate your help."

  She wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming. "I don't know what we're going to do."

  "All we have to know is the next step."

  "And what's that?"

  He nodded toward Brady in the front seat. "We start with my friends."

  MARISA YAWNED AS BRADY turned onto a narrow side road. She caught a glimpse of a lake between cabins and tall trees. One day, forever ago, Nate had told Marisa about the lake in his hometown. She never thought she'd see it. On this late afternoon in March, the oaks and maples were still bare of leaves, but the pines stood tall and colorful against the pale blue sky and reflected in the sparking water. The light dripped between the branches, reflected off the white birch bark, and was soaked into the trunks of oaks and maples and pines, nearly sucked dry before it reached the leafy bracken on the ground.

  Her fingers itched for her paints. "It's amazing."

  "I've been all over the world," Nate said, peering out the window on her side of the truck, "and I've never found anyplace as beautiful as this. You ever been to New Hampshire before?"

  Marisa shook her head. "Upstate New York a few times."

  Brady turned into the driveway of a little one-story wood-sided cabin and parked beside a blue truck. "Sam's not here yet, but I have the key."

  "Isn't that your old truck?" Nate asked.

  "Thought you'd need some wheels." They climbed out. Marisa stretched, tired of sitting, and joined the men at the back of Brady's pickup.

  "And you didn't tell my father we were coming," Nate asked.

  "No sense involving your folks. Only Sam and Rae know."

  Marisa looked at Brady. "Rae is your wife, right?"

  "Right. And Johnny is our son."

  "Aren't you worried about getting your wife involved?" Marisa asked.

  "I'm always worried about her," Brady said. "But if you knew Reagan, you'd know it's never a good idea to try to keep something from her." He opened the tailgate, reached in for Marisa's duffel, and gripped Leslie's suitcase.

  Nate grabbed his own while Brady led the way up the steps to the cabin. "Anyway," Brady continued, "Reagan finds out everybody's secrets. And I'd hate to think what she'd do to me if she discovered Nate needed our help and I hadn't told her." He shuddered, and Marisa smiled.

  "If you say so. But I'd rather keep your family as far from my troubles as possible."

  Nate nodded for her to follow Brady. "They'll be fine. Rae can take care of herself."

  Marisa followed Brady up the three steps to the front porch. It was beautiful outside, and she wanted to stay out and enjoy the view. The chilly temperatures changed her mind.

  Inside the door of the cabin, Marisa stalled. The word cabin should never be used to describe this place, not with its gleaming hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling stacked stone fireplace. The couch and chairs looked both chic and comfortable. Across the great room stood a narrow island that separated the living room from the small kitchen. It had granite countertops, and three barstools had been pushed beneath it. The kitchen was furnished with stainless appliances. On the far side of the cabin, a glass sliding door led to a deck, where a round table was surrounded by six chairs. Beyond the table, a dock jutted out from the deck and over the lake, so that it looked as if the cabin were built nearly on top of the glistening waters. The vista was beautiful. "Wow."

  Nate cleared his throat.

  "Oh, sorry." She stepped to the side so he could enter.

  He entered and spoke to Brady. "Two bedrooms?"

  Brady poin
ted to the two doors on Marisa's right. "The one in the back is the master. Has a bathroom in there. That's hers. The other one'll do for you."

  Marisa took her duffel from Brady and went into the master. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been someplace this nice. A tall, king-sized four-poster bed took up the bulk of the space. There were nightstands on either side, a bureau at the end of the bed, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

  Marisa set her bag down and crossed to the bathroom. More granite and pretty tile. And a huge soaking tub. Ana would love it.

  Ana.

  She squeezed her eyes against the threat of tears and returned to the great room, where she joined Brady and Nate, who were leaning against the granite counter.

  "Sam and Rae will be here any minute," Brady said. "You need something to eat? Sam said there would be some basics in the fridge." He circled into the bar and opened the refrigerator.

  "I'm not hungry," Marisa said.

  Nate touched her elbow. "Maybe you should try. You haven't eaten since Mexico City."

  "I ate the peanuts on the plane." She looked at Brady. "I would love a cup of coffee."

  "Okay." He pushed a button on a weird, black appliance she didn't recognize and slid a rack of little plastic things across the counter. "What kind?"

  She eyed the rack and the appliance, which seemed to be steaming or something. "What in the world?"

  "Uh..." Brady looked from Marisa to Nate, who laughed.

  "She's been out of the country for a while." Nate turned to Marisa. "Ever heard of a Keurig?"

  "No. Wait, maybe. I think I've seen a picture online. I never really looked to see what it did."

  "It's a coffee maker that makes one cup at a time," Nate said. "They're pretty cool." He spun the rack. "Pick one."

  Marisa read all the different choices. Regular, decaf, mocha, vanilla.

  She selected one. "What does Christmas coffee taste like?"

  Nate looked at it. "Oh, I've had that. It's really good. It tasted like, well, coffee. If you don't like it, we can get you another one."

  She turned back to Brady. "You're sure it's okay? Your friend won't mind?"

  He took the coffee from her and put it in the machine. He pushed a button, and a minute later, the coffee was brewing. When he handed her the full cup, she said, "I want one of those."

  "We'll see what we can do," Nate said.

  She shook her head. "No. That would definitely blow a fuse. The power in my house is not very reliable."

  But maybe she wouldn't be going back to Mexico, not to live, anyway. Maybe she and Ana...

  She couldn't think about the future. She lifted her gaze to Brady. "Sugar?"

  "Right." He searched the cabinets and returned with a little glass cup filled with various types of sweetener packets. She chose sugar, poured it in the cup, and stirred with a spoon Brady handed her. She'd become accustomed to drinking coffee black in Mexico, but it was much better sweet. And Nate was right. Although there was nothing particularly Christmassy about it, the flavor was delicious.

  Just imagine. Twenty different varieties of coffee in your own house. The luxury.

  She looked back at the rack. "It even has hot chocolate. Ana's never had that. She would love it. Anything sweet..." Her words trailed off.

  Nate wrapped his arm around her. He'd been doing that a lot, and it felt more and more comfortable every time. She should probably pull away. She'd have to be careful not to let it progress. She leaned into him and sipped her coffee.

  Someone knocked on the front door. Nate crossed the room, opened the door a crack, then opened it all the way.

  A woman stepped inside and set a bag on the floor. She was much shorter than Nate and had long, light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a business suit that showed off her curves, the kind of curves Marisa had always envied. Nate pulled her into a long hug and said something Marisa couldn't hear.

  Behind her, another woman stepped in. She was taller than the first and had reddish-blond, shoulder-length hair. She wore jeans and a light green sweater and carried a giant patterned purse. When Nate had finished hugging the first woman, he turned to the second and hugged her. After a few seconds, Brady said, "Okay, that's enough."

  Everybody laughed, and Nate led the two women across the room. "Marisa, I want you to meet my good friends. He indicated the redhead and said, "This is Rae Thomas."

  Marisa stepped forward and held out her hand, but the woman passed right by her outstretched hand and hugged her. "I'm glad to meet you, but I'm very sorry for what you're going through."

  Marisa felt the tears again. She blinked them back as Reagan stepped away and said, "For a couple of hours, I thought I might lose my son. I cannot imagine what you're feeling right now."

  Marisa didn't know what to say and probably couldn't have formed words anyway. She nodded. The other woman stepped forward and hugged her, too.

  Behind her, Nate said, "And that's Samantha Messenger."

  "I'm praying like crazy," Samantha whispered in her ear.

  Marisa sniffed. "Thank you." They stepped apart. "Thank you for letting us stay here."

  Sam flipped her hand. "It's nothing."

  Marisa let out a short laugh that sounded as much like a sob. "I thought you were a man."

  The woman's eyebrows lifted, and Marisa sniffed and wiped her eyes. "They kept calling you Sam. I just assumed..."

  Sam turned to Brady and Nate and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you two?"

  Nate said, "Sorry. I didn't think."

  Rae lifted the bag Sam had left by the door. "Enough chit-chat. We have a little girl to find. Let's get to work."

  THE FIVE OF THEM SAT at the round table. Sam pulled out a laptop, and Rae slid a folder and pen from her huge purse.

  Brady nodded to Nate. "Why don't you give us the background information?"

  "We already know about the mortgage fraud." Reagan nodded to Nate. "We downloaded your old stories and read a few others, so we're caught up on what Gray & Kinnison did. Tell us what happened to bring it all to light."

  Nate nodded to Marisa.

  "Vinnie told me about the fraud," she started. "He said—"

  "Wait." Rae opened her file and flipped through it. "Vinnie is Vincent Depalo, your boyfriend. Right?"

  "Fiancé," Marisa said. "Some FBI agent had cornered him and told him they were investigating G&K for fraud. He suggested Vinnie cooperate with the investigation or go down with the rest of them."

  "Why him?" Brady asked.

  Marisa shrugged. "Maybe because he'd made the least money off of it. I mean, he was making plenty, but not like the guys on top."

  "And he was the newest person to get involved," Nate added. "And the youngest. Plus, the FBI wanted to bring down the guys on the top. They didn't care about small potatoes like Vincent Depalo." He turned to Marisa. "Not that he wasn't—"

  "I know what you mean." She reached out like she might touch his hand, then pulled it back. "You're probably right."

  Brady focused on her. "Do you know the name of the agent?"

  "Garrison Kopp."

  "His last name is Cop?" Rae raised her eyebrows.

  Marisa nodded. "But it's K-O-P-P."

  Rae smiled. "Appropriate."

  Brady glanced at Rae while she wrote something on her note pad. He turned back to Marisa. "I'm guessing this agent tells Vinnie to cooperate, or he's going to bring him down, too."

  "Yeah." Marisa could still remember the fear in Vinnie's eyes when he'd relayed the information to her. And the shame. She'd been horrified to discover her fiancé was a crook. She'd told him that if he didn't come clean and straighten up, they were finished.

  Not that the threat had been necessary. Vinnie had known what he had to do. He was a young man, not even thirty. Why spend his life as a felon?

  "Okay," Brady said. "Then what happened?"

  "Vinnie contacted Kopp, and they set up a meeting for a week later. But a few days after that, Vinnie was be
aten to death." For the first time, those words barely raised any emotion in her. Right now, all she cared about was getting Ana and Leslie back.

  "I'm sorry," Brady said. "That must have been terrible."

  "I was convinced Charles and his men had done it to keep him quiet. Vinnie thought he was being followed and even talked about running away. He was going to try to meet Kopp earlier, but before Vinnie could work it out, he was killed."

  Reagan was taking notes but looked up and gave her an encouraging nod.

  Brady leaned forward. "The question is, who told Charles Gray about the meet?"

  Marisa opened her mouth, closed it again.

  "What?" Nate said.

  "I can't be sure, but..."

  Nate turned to face her, leaned forward, and said very quietly, "You need to tell us everything, Marisa. Now is not the time to hold back."

  She nodded. Swallowed. Said, "I know. You're right. It's just... I'm not sure."

  Nate waited.

  "Leslie." There, she'd said it. She'd never had the courage to confront her sister all those years ago, and she would never have told the FBI her suspicions, but now, with both Leslie and Ana kidnapped, the secret no longer seemed to matter.

  Nate sat back, looked at the table. "Leslie." He met her eyes again. "I can see why you didn't say anything. You probably should have, but—"

  "Who's Leslie?" Brady asked.

  "My sister."

  "Oh." Rae made a note. "She's the one who was taken with Ana?"

  "Yeah." Marisa turned to Nate. "If it was her, I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

  "Of course." Nate's words didn't match his expression, though. His eyes had narrowed, his mouth pinched shut like he was working to keep his thoughts inside.

  "Wait," Rae said. "Explain how that happened."

  Marisa explained Leslie's business and the cleaning contract for G&K, how she'd known Charles Gray and Vinnie and a lot of the guys up there.

  "The night Vinnie confessed it all to me, Leslie had been out. But at some point while we were talking, she came home. I never knew when, never knew what she'd heard. But I always found it odd that I hadn't heard her come in. Later, she told me we looked like we were in a serious conversation and she didn't want to interrupt. I believed her, of course. Why wouldn't I? But when it all happened, and that FBI agent kept asking me who I'd told... I wondered."